Poison Figs
by blackdahlias
Summary: Stars collide and night must hide when good men go to war.  Snakes die and Dragons rise when good men go to war.  All must go forth and pick a side when the good men go to war.  Draco/Hermione/All the ships during HBP.
1. Violent Delights

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 1 - VIOLENT DELIGHTS**

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Which, as they kiss, consume"

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

**Draco**

Draco stretched in the soft bed, his legs too long for the four poster. The sound of the lake water splashing against the wall. The whole dorm had a tint of green, so Draco had to sit for a moment in the dark, letting his eyes adjust.

Most of the other dorms, he knew, were above ground, but Draco wouldn't have chosen any other. The Slytherin dorm was old, and slightly damp, but it was full of secrets as black as sin.

Draco revelled in it.

He had a photo of his parents in the drawer of his sidetable, and he tried not to wake anyone else as he opened the old drawer, and pulled out the photograph.

He was very small back then, about to head off to Hogwarts, and his hair was more gold than the silver-white it had turned into. He still had the hint of a genuine smile, not the snide cocky one he prided himself in. His father was gaunt and stern, with pure white hair and a frown. Draco's mother had her arm around his little shoulders, beautiful as ever, but with a sad smile. The figures in the photo attempted to stand still outside the Malfoy Manor, the wind catching at their long hair. Draco smiled at the memory of how Narcissa had scraped and greased his hair back.

"You've got to show them who you are, Draco. You're a Malfoy, and as far as I know that still counts for something."

Draco scratched his head and buried the photo back in the drawer, amongst the clutter of unfinished essays and his prefect badge. Draco pulled a face at thats and thought about blowing it up, but he was awake early and some of the other boys in the Dorm would probably wake up.

Draco walked to Defence Against the Dark Arts, flanked by those idiots Crabbe and Goyle. If he could he would get rid of them as fast as possible, but the twats could never take a hex for an answer and usually just came trawling back. They were useful when first years needed a good lesson, but otherwise they were simply painful, annoying….ugh.

Draco could see that mudblood Granger coming up with tall, ginger Weaselbee and slouchy Potter, her frizzy hair slightly tamed but still slipping out of the enormous clip she had bound it up in.

He found himself staring at the back of her head in class, watching a small curl escape, curling around her ear. It was annoying him so much that he wanted to reach forward and push it back into place, but then he shivered and realised class had finished.

He knew he had to ditch Crabbe and Goyle to get to the Room of Requirement, so he muttered under his breath and split both their robes over their arses.

He laughed under his breath as they both skittered back to the Dungeons.

Draco looked at his watch and swore under his breath. It was already 5 pm and he would have to skip Astronomy, but it was worth it. He had finally found an answer,and he couldn't just let the opportunity pass.

Draco walked throughout the hallways of the school, cursing his terrible sense of direction, but finally he found himself facing the large expanse of empty wall, apparently unmarked by time.

Draco had to think hard of the Vanishing Cabinet, and he had to walk very slowly, but finally the familiar tall black door appeared out of nowhere. Draco walked into the Room of Requirement, with the weirdest feeling that someone was following him.

**Hermione**

Hermione managed to sneak inside the Room before this door shut itself, and she hid herself behind a pile of chairs, brooms and other oddments.

She watched Draco walk further into the Room, making a pathway through the piles of junk and hidden treasures, and Hermione followed him, darting between chests of clothes and piles of books till she had a good view of drake searching through a wooden box of books.

Hermione meant to edge closer but a small letter opener fell off the table she was hiding behind, and it landed with a heavy clatter. Draco spun around, his hair dishevelled, the white top layers so mussed they revealed the warm gold underneath. She had taken him by surprise, and for a moment his grey eyes turned a pale shade of turquoise, innocent and vulnerable and-

'_Lovely,' _Hermione hadn't meant to say the word aloud, but it slipped from her lips.

Dracos lips turned into an easy, cocky smile, and any hint of vulnerability disappeared, the turquoise replaced by the usual dead, cold grey.

'Hello, _Hermione,_' Draco said, relaxing a little, pushing his hair back into shape. He sneered on her name, but she had expected it.

'Hello. What are you doing in here?'

'I could say the same to you, but I'm having the oddest feeling that you're inclined to talk over any explanation anyone could offer to your frizzy-haired self.'

Hermione cocked her heat for a moment, wondering why he hadn't thrown an insult yet, but she decided that she was better off not knowing.

'No one really knows about this room, no one who's a student anyway. I've seen you come here before, you know,' Hermione blurted.

'How did you know I was coming here today though?' Draco's smile fell away and his hand edged to his wand in his pocket.

'You split Crabbe and Goyle's robes, and you usually only make that much effort to get rid of them when you come here,' Hermione slipped her own hand into her pocket, feeling for the faithful Dragon heartstring.

Draco relaxed a little and walked towards her, and Hermione tensed up a little, uncomfortably aware of pale hands, and his easy stride, as well as how when he wasn't being sarcastic as something, his face was quite nice.

Draco stopped about 10 centimetres from Hermione, and she could feel his breath on her face.

'So… what were you hoping to see, Granger?' Draco whispered.

'I wanted to see what you were up to,' Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady, all too aware of how dangerous he was.

'Well, as you can see, I'm not doing anything. And I think you've got somewhere to go,' Draco inclined his head towards the doorway, and Hermione realised she would have to let it go, but inside herself she vowed to find out what he was doing in the Room of Requirement.

**Draco**

Granger turned to leave, but Draco couldn't help himself.

'Granger,' she halted.

Draco reached forward and pushed a loose curl behind her ear.

'It was bloody annoying,' he smiled slightly at Granger's confused facial expression. She shrugged her head and walked through the doorway, and Draco sat down on a threadbare ottoman to think.


	2. Dead Children

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 2 - DEAD CHILDREN**

Good Lord, what have we done for this dark dirty sun?

Lord of mine where have you been?

When there's trouble you are nowhere to be seen.

A little town like a lamb.

Well a lion come down and took their dam.

-Vernonia Blues, by Horse Feather

**Draco**

Draco pulled his coat about his shoulders, and barrelled through the snow, towards the castle. As usual, his head was full of the Vanishing Cabinet, but there was a little space there niggling at him. He had seen Granger around, lugging a bunch of books as per usual, and occasionally he would catch her looking at him, trying to see where he was going, but Draco was more careful since their meeting in the Room of Requirement, Instead of openly dropping Crabbe and Goyle, Draco was simply slipping into Snape's store rooms and brewing up a sleeping draught for cupcakes Crabbe and Goyle ate.

Porkers.

For once Draco was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, and to his surprise Hermione was too. Obviously to keep her eye on him, but Draco wouldn't let her. He wasn't stupid, contrary to popular relief.

Draco finally reached the castle, and made his way to the Room of Requirement.

He was getting better now, tracking his thoughts, slipping in and out of Hogwarts to do his job.

He had to remember to _do his job._

Draco walked into the Room, and made a very ungainly noise, somewhere between a yell and the squeal of a dying animal.

Hermione Granger was seated on a leather armchair, with her hands buried in a box of trinkets.

'_Granger!' _Draco yelped, his face contorted into an expression of pure rage.

'Hello, Draco. We really have to stop meeting like this,' Hermione was calm, not taking her eyes of the gold bangle she had pulled out. 'No, thats not it,' she muttered to herself.

'Wha-what…why…'

'I thought of a place to hide something, and I came here. I had this bracelet I really loved, but my cats scared of it so I hid it here last Thursday. I'm trying to find it,' Hermione threw the bangle over her shoulder and continued to forage about. 'Besides, once I got in here and realised exactly where I was, I couldn't help but think of what a good opportunity it was to work out what you were doing.'

'Well, forget that. You're going,' Draco started to break out in a sweat, and he licked his lips subconsciously.

Hermione grinned. 'I don't think so. My job is to find out what you're up to.'

'Oh really?'

'Yes. I'm hoping I can crack it before the 1st of next month.'

Draco stared at Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, and couldn't help but admire the way they seemed to glimmer in the darkness of the room. His eyes flitted over to the Vanishing Cabinet, and he realised he had to get rid of Granger and her - _pleasant_ - eyes.

'How about we play a game?' Draco relaxed and stepped towards Hermione, flexing his long fingers.

**Hermione**

'What kind of game?' Hermione tried to ignore the warning signs, the way the words game and Malfoy went together like apples and pears.

'A game of truth and dare.'

'Truth _and _dare?' He was blathering now.

'Yes. I dare you to do something, and if you do it, you get a truth out of me. And visa versa.'

Hermione thought about it for a moment.

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Yes.'

Hermione met him in the Astronomy Tower, and much to her surprise, he was early, sitting on the edge of the balcony rail.

He greeted her with an easy smile, so different from the usual sneer, and gestured next to him. Hermione tentatively sat next to him, all too aware of the space between both of their hands resting on the railing.

'I dare you to to say one nasty thing about me, and I will push you off so fast even your icy mother will feel it,' Hermione couldn't help it.

**Draco**

'I don't think its your turn,' Draco said, but inside she had hurt him. There was no need to be sharp - he had only insulted her behind her back these days, and even then it was half hearted. Ever since the Cabinet, ever since his father, ever since he noticed the colour of Granger's eyes.

'So, you go then. I don't have all day,' Hermione still hadn't snapped out of her nasty mood, and Draco attempted to ignore her harsh tone.

'I dare you-I dare you not to use that bitchy tone with me,' Draco had wasted one of his dares, but it was worth it to see the expression of shock on her face.

'I didn't realise - I'm sorry,' Hermione turned her head away.

'Your turn.'

'Tell me something you think about. Something people wouldn't think about,' Hermione had just wasted her truth, but Draco felt compelled to answer truthfully.

Maybe she wanted to get to _know _him. He wanted to laugh, but he thought that would be a bit unkind.

Draco thought hard about it for a moment, not wanting to sound like a twat but still attempting to be nice to Granger, which was honestly becoming easier each day.

'You know when people are asleep, and they look younger, and vulnerable. Even more importantly, they look afraid. Like how you would expect dead children to look. Dead, innocent children, who had no choice, who…' Draco realised he was weeping slightly. 'Dead children, sleeping adults, it doesn't make much of a difference now, does it? We'll all still lie and cheat and kill. It doesn't matter what we kill - people, feelings, ideas, we destroy the pure essence of what makes us human. And yet years of lessons don't change us. We're all still bastards,' Draco was shaking, and Hermione tentatively put her hand atop his.

'Thats what you think about?' Hermione seemed slightly shocked.

'Yeah. Yeah, thats what I think about.'

Granger seemed perplexed. 'Bastards and dead children?'

'Of course. You can't help but think about what you are,' and with that Draco jumped off the railing, and walked down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, his blood thudding in his ears and his hands in tight fists, wondering what drug he was on, or whether he was simply going mad.

Either way, he had to fix the cabinet and ditch Granger.

Soon.


	3. A Little Bit Radical

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 3 - A LITTLE BIT RADICAL**

I see the winter, she's crawling up the lawn

I feel her breathing beneath my palms

She tears the trees down while curses roll from her tongue

Got eyes like anvils and storms for lungs

-Winter Is Coming, by Radical Face

**Hermione**

The bath tub in the bathrooms was hard to get in since the bathrooms were usually full of girls eagerly slapping on makeup, but since it was the holidaysthe bathrooms were normally unoccupied. Hermione loved the feeling of slipping out of her heavy winter clothes and sliding into the bath, the steam making her hair frizz, the water beading on her arms dangling out of the tub.

Sometimes, when it was so quiet you could almost hear the snow falling outside the ancient walls of Hogwarts, Hermione would drift off so much that she would sleep. And she would dream.

Her dreams used to be full of horrible things, like her parents dying, like Harry and Ron dying, but now, it was Draco killing Harry, Draco torturing her parents, Draco laughing at Ron bleeding to death.

So Hermione started taking quicker baths.

Hermione was due to meet Draco again, although she had still been travelling back to the Room of Requirement, basically bellowing 'Accio!' at anything that looked remotely dark. She had to admit to herself, she was getting a bit paranoid.

Hermione clambered out of the bathtub, and pulled on her clothes, ready to make the strenuous walk up to the Astronomy Tower. Hermione had always had strong arms because of her book fetish, but ever since the third year and the strict schedule with her time turner, her legs had adapted to the castle, becoming stronger and growing manically each year. While Hermione took the last staircase up the tower, she thought about what Draco had said to her two nights ago, about dead children and bastards and…Draco's hand. When she had touched his hand, Hermione expected it to be cold, for him to shrink away. He showed no signs of noticing that she had even touched him, but his skin was warm and very soft, very much unlike the hands of Ron and Harry which she knew all too well. Harry's hands were smooth but cold, while Ron's were hardened by work, but so _warm._ When he touched her, Hermione felt her skin prickle with tiny shocks.

As she entered the tower, Hermione shook away all of her thoughts of Ron's hands, and she sat down on the floor, watching the snow blow into the tower. Malfoy was late, which was slightly out of character, but within ten minutes he arrived, flustered and out of breath, grey eyes flashing blue. His eyes fixed on Hermione, and she could see that he was almost baffled as to why he was there.

He was completely still, and Hermione could hear his shallow breathing, and the red, red blood dripping from the tips of the fingers on his right hand.

'Draco!' Hermione jumped up and ran to him, digging for the little packet of tissues in her pocket that she always kept with her. She staunched the flow with a tissue and with her other hand she tugged her wand out of her pocket, muttering 'Episkey.'

Draco simply looked blank. 'It won't work,' he said.

'Why not, what did you do?'

Draco looked positively terrified - 'It won't work. I couldn't get it to work. I tried to send something, but my hand…._It won't work!'_

Draco leaned on the wall and Hermione watched as he slid down it, landing on the floor with a dull _thud_.

Hermione tore a small amount of fabric from Draco's shirt and wrapped his fingers in it, and without thinking she held his other unharmed hand.

'Dare. Shut your hand in a magical cabinet,' Draco seemed slightly hysterical, 'Truth, lie because if you tell the truth you're going to end up dead.'

'Hey, it can't be that bad,' Hermione lied, sitting next to Draco.

He looked at her as if she was insane. 'Oh, but it is, so very, very bad.'

'What was it like being a kid for you? I mean, your father's a dark wizard, your mother's the sister of a dark wizard - you can't be a stranger to people ransoming off your family members,' Hermione looked at Draco, and he seemed to relax a little.

'It was fine. I was a happy kid, I suppose, running around a big old manor, completely free to do as I pleased. I had a pet crow once. It was a nasty, crappy piece of shit, but it had this strange kind of love for me, and I returned its affection. Father had been away for a while, and when he came back, he…he encouraged my ownership of the crow. Then on Christmas Day, he cracked the neck of my beloved crow in front of me, and had the cook serve it for Christmas Dinner. He made me eat it,' Draco didn't sound bitter or angry, instead, he was almost too calm for words.

'Thats barbaric!' Hermione squeaked.

'No it's not. Thats life,' Draco grinned, but it wasn't snarky. It was simply an acknowledgement that to get things right, you had to go through a lot of buggery.

'I still think he over did it, by far. When I thought the world was all butterflies my parents showed me the news. Killing your pet seems a little bit, well, _radical, _to be honest,' Hermione started to laugh,

**Draco**

Draco couldn't help it, her laugh was infectious. The images of his poor dead crow was erased temporarily from his head as he started to laugh with Granger, his eyes watering slightly.

He forgot the horrible pain in his fingers, caused by that bloody Cabinet. He forgot the fact that he had had to give sleeping draught to Crabbe and Goyle again, and he forgot the horrible, stinging Mark on his left arm. He forgot his parents, who he was.

He _forgot._

And by the time he remembered, they had both stopped laughing and started staring. Draco had his eyes on Hermione's, while Hermione had hers…

_On the Mark,_

Draco's sleeve had rolled up his arm, and he quickly pulled it away as Hermione's expression of horror grew.

'So its true!' Hermione gasped, moving away from him.

'Truth?' Draco said weakly, thinking of what to do. He couldn't curse her, a version of himself would have done so without reserve, but now…

Draco did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

He made his way to the Room of Requirement, glad for his thin body. He could hear Hermione's shoes scuffing behind him, but he was faster. He was always faster.

He rounded a corner and quickly paced, thinking of 'somewhere to hide something, somewhere to hide something…'

He was grateful as the door appeared, and he ran in the room, but Hermione forced the door open behind him and walked in, without fear that she was in the precence of a Death Eater.

Draco lifted up his wand and pointed it at Granger, but she had beat him to it. They both had there wands poised, ready to fling a curse.

'Drop it!' Granger lifted her wand a little higher, pointed at Draco's forehead. Draco did as he was told, realising that Granger had the upper hand with her ability to do magic.

'So… What are you going to do, _Mudblood_?' Draco was a little worried, and the insult slipped out like running water. He realised he was sliding into the old Draco, the old Draco that would hex a child because it annoyed him. It was the survival instinct, he knew, but overall he felt like he had gathered a nasty but necessary component of himself.

At mudblood, Granger seemed to lose it. 'Thanks Harry,' she said.

'What?'

'_Sectumsempra!' _Hermione flung the spell at Draco, and he was knocked backwards with the force of it.

From then on, his bleeding fingers were the least of his worries.

He could feel some sort of invisible sword slashing at his stomach, his hands, his face, his torso, even his thin legs. He began to shake, the pain was unbearable, and there was a scream curdling up in the back of his throat. Draco tried to keep it down, he lifted his arms to smack the invisible sword away… and he saw the blood pouring out of the deep gash in his arms. He looked about himself, and he could see the blood seeping through his shirt, pooling around him, red as rubies. He writhed about, feeling air enter his body, his bare flared skin under his shirt.

'Granger…' Draco gurgled through a mouthful of blood, reaching for her.

'My name is not _Mudblood!' _Hermione yelled, and through slitted eyes Draco could see the tears pouring down her face.

'Please, I'm sorry… I just-I didn't mean to, I didn't think…'

Hermione seemed to soften, and walked through the pools of blood until she stood over Draco.

_'Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur._'

Draco felt his body begin to heal and the blood began to return to his body, and cool relief ran through his shuddering body.

Hermione sat down on the stone floor next to him, and he could hear her breathing. He would have reached out to her, he felt horrible, and perhaps he had earnt it. But his body felt exhausted, so he could only listen to her breathing, to her soft sobs.

He reached for his wand, and threw it at Granger. 'Take it, please. Take it.'

Hermione raised her head and looked at the bloody wand.

'Take it, and please, _please, _trust me.


	4. The Unconquerable Soul of an Angel

This chapter is dedicated to Heather () who was the first to read this fix and analyse it, and who helped me develop how this fix works, and also to Jay () who read it and actually liked it.

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 4 -THE UNCONQUERABLE SOUL OF AN ANGEL**

But of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

- Invictus by William Ernest Henley

**Draco**

When he asked her to trust him, Hermione had looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. The night before she had cleaned up his blood and helped him hobble out of the room to the staircase that led down into the dark dungeons, without a word spoken between them. His offering of the wand had seemed so foreign, like something from a fairytale of a person offering a magical token in exchange for love, trust, or personal gain. But he did it still, for nothing more than her respect, and had crawled into his bed, cold and still shuddering, but clean.

Just before she had left him at the top of the staircase, Hermione reached out and pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the Mark. She placed her index finger on the top, and pressed the tip of her wand to it, and began to mutter some sort of shielding spell. As she dragged her finger lightly over his skin, all the way down the Mark, his skin pricked and tingled, while the Mark faded to almost nothing.

'It'll hide it, but not for long,' Hermione said. 'I couldn't remove it, it's such _evil _magic that made it. But I can hide it for a bit.'

'Why? Why do that for me?'

'I don't know, I honestly don't know,' and with that Hermione flicked out her wand and left him.

In his bed, Draco went over what had happened on the staircase in his head. Her fingertips had made his skin fizz, like a song was being sung through him. He felt alive, as if he had been cold and dead for a very long time. For the strangest moment, it was as if Granger was a sister to Draco, but when she touched him, it was like his dragon namesake was stirring. Draco closed his eyes, and he dreamed of a great green and blue dragon, flying through the night, with a sleeping girl on it's back. He couldn't see the girl's face, but he could see her chocolate brown eyes, big and sad and ready to be drowned in.

**Hermione**

Hermione dropped a scrap of paper in his empty cauldron during potions, when she went to collect a Bezoar from the store cupboard. She had scribbled 'tonight' on it, and hoped he would come. She hoped.

A part of her thought that she was insane, after all, she was having secret meetings with a death eater whom she had even helped the night before. She tried to think of what her mother would say, with her kindly eyes and small mouth, which spoke the kindest endearments when Hermione was a child. It was odd, but ever since Hermione had started Hogwarts, she found herself distanced from the Muggle world. She used to read Tolkein and poetry, but now she was scouring the Daily Prophet and the works of Marylinn Havensbee, and as ever Bathilda Bagshot.

What had happened to the old Hermione, who stayed away from boys with blonde hair because they reminded her of the winter? What happened to the Hermione who loved the Hobbits and La Belle Dame Sans Merci? Hermione didn't know, it was as if a piece of her was lost, a piece she could never ever get back again. But at least her parents still loved her. As well as Harry and Ron. Hermione often got confused, being friends with Harry and Ron, two very different boys. One who was serious and handsome and dark as night, and the other who was funny and like sunshine. Sometimes she whispered his name to herself, alone in the bathroom or in the corner of the library, tasting it on her lips.

'_Ron.' _It was smooth, the way liquid luck would taste. Hermione often thought she could imagine snogging Ron, and surprisingly she never blushed about it. But the night she was supposed to meet Draco, the night she slipped him the note, the image of her and Ron kissing was replaced with Draco, cold, cruel, and possessive. She shook her head, smoothed down her hair, and walked to the Room.

**Draco**

Draco could feel wind whistling through some hole in the wall somewhere in the Room. He seated himself on the same ottoman before, and laughed to himself when he noticed the small burgundy stain from his blood.

Hermione came it, and Draco at first though he was seeing some sort of avenging angel. Her eyes seemed less innocent, more sure of herself, and she seemed to be walking with more confidence. The girl who had written the note was more skitterish and law-abiding than anything, with straight handwriting except for the tail in her g, which was curled like a snake, or a stinger poised to strike.

She gave him a smile he had never seen before, it was warm, and kind, and forgiving. It could of course just be a front, but Draco was inclined to think that it was genuine, just because her eyes said so.

There was something about those eyes.

Draco pulled up a smaller ottoman next to him, and gestured to it with one of his pale hands. Hermione sat down next to him, relaxed, and looked right through him, through his very soul. Unafraid, like a captain on a ship that was doomed to fail but would make its way through the storm. An angel. An angel who had had a mission, had failed, and come back, ready for revenge.

'Hey,' she said, biting her lower lip.

'Hi yourself. I think we have a bit of a game to continue,' Draco knew he was pushing this angel, but it was worth it. To see how much she could fall into danger and still bounce back, unburned.

Perhaps besides her innocent, weatherworn beauty, this was her appeal.

'I think that we do,' Hermione smiled. 'But I want it swapped. I want to dare you something, and I want you to ask me something.'

'Okay.' Draco licked his lips and tried to think of something, but all he could feel was the wind licking at his bare wrist, the compulsion to come up with something good, lest she think he was too stupid. 'Why do you care so much? About what I'm doing, whether someone sees my Mark?'

A frown appeared between Hermione's eyebrows, as if she was confused by the question.

**Hermione**

She felt herself tense up, trying to be honest. It was harder than it looked. With Harry and Ron it was easy, they could have been her brothers. Except for Ron. Ron could be something more. But he wasn't, he was something more with Lavender. Which is what allowed Hermione to say what she did.

'I care because I simply do. Because you might be doing something which can harm us all, which can harm my family, Hogwarts, and my friends. And somewhere, somewhere inside I care about _you._ Because before you were a horrible human being who, to be honest, I hoped would conveniently fall off a cliff. But now, theres something beautiful I can see in you.'

**Draco**

'Which is?' Draco's voice was soft.Draco was slightly hurt by her earlier opinion of himself, but then he supposed he deserved it. And anything was worth her answer.

'I can see your unconquered soul. You aren't ruled by anybody, and sometimes thats a cold thing. It makes you distance yourself from people, makes you act like a bastard. But the funniest thing is, thats what make man great - his ability to save himself. And I swear to you Draco, when the walls are crumbling and there is only carnage in the world that got left behind, your head will be bloody, but unbowed.'

Draco smiled. 'Invictus?'

'Yes, Invictus. I used to love Henley… Before. And now, I think I get to dare you to do something.'

'Alright, fire ahead.'

'I dare you to tell me what you've been doing.'

Draco froze, his easy manner gone, as he thought of the cabinet. He knew she cared for him now, maybe she knew how to fix it, or how to stop it altogether. Perhaps it was too much to ask, but he could try. t was his only chance. He stood up and walked towards the Cabinet, stored at the back of the Room, dim and boring.

Hermione followed him, and they both stood before the Cabinet, which from afar appeared to be dusty and grey, but up close was large and austere and haunting.

'I've been fixing this. It's a Vanishing Cabinet, and its twin is in Borgin & Burkes. Its supposed to let them in, and if I don't fix it, they're going to kill me. They're going to kill me and my family.'

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shaking body, and all at once Draco's world fell apart, the cracks finally splitting open to fresh air.

To bleed like game dead in the snow, with its shame for all to see.

He could see himself as a little boy, dumped on the Hogwarts Express without a backwards look, tears on his mother's face and his father pulling her away. He could see the Potter boy, the first friend he hoped to make, who turned him away. He saw his nastiness towards Weasley, and the shame in the ginger's face.

He saw the Hippogriff rearing, its claws coming for him, and his whole body being slammed to the ground. A part of him was screaming that day '_Don't say it, its done nothing to you, don't!_' And then the fact that Potter had ridden the Hippogriff. Privileged Potter, who'd known no parents but who'd known love.

Who'd known choice.

Then Draco was back home for the holidays at the beginning of the year, and Voldemort was pressing the Mark to his arm. To God he prayed, to the God he knew was there, for the pain was unbearable, worse than any tattoo, like fire and water, serpent and lion, the sun and the moon. Angels and Demons.

And then Draco was back in the Room, with Hermione, and her arms were around him.

So within all the pain and the blood and the cruelty, everything became Pandora's Box. His life was the pure essence of the box, and within were the events that shaped him. Those had been release to inflict cruelty on the world. But there was something at the bottom of the box, an event left to be had.

Hope.

And within hope there was a kiss, and within that kiss was a thousand sorries and the words that they could not say.

Words that rose from between the softness and vulnerability of a pair of human lips, meeting together for the first time, hesitant and forgiving.

Words that crowned the stars.


	5. The Silver Mephistopheles

_-Sunday, 1st January 2012 - _Thank you to everyone who reads this fic. This was shorter than I thought I'd make it, but I've put in a few more characters, so I hope that you enjoy the new perspective. Happy New Year!

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 5 - THE SILVER MEPHISTOPHELES**

Men's wretchedness in soothe I so deplore,

Not even I would plague the sorry creatures more.

-Mephistopheles, Faust, by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

**Hermione**

Hermione drew back from Draco, his bite on her lips feeling foreign, and for a moment it dampened her courage. He looked sorry, and put his arms around her, holding her as if she was porcelain. She put her hand up to his hair, running her fingers through its smooth silkiness, and she ran her tongue on her bottom lip, feeling it bleed a little.

'I'm sorry,' Draco said, looking slightly put out, his own lips trembling, fragile.

'It's okay.'

'Have you ever heard of Mephistopheles?' Draco released Hermione, sat down, and leaned on the Cabinet.

'Faust?'

'Of course. The one and only. What do you know about him?'

'He was some sort of demon that served the Devil in Faust. There are two sides to his story - some say he is evil as they come, while others believe that although he was 'bad,' he still warned Faust of the regret he would have from turning away from Heaven to pursue his own goals. He wanted Faustus' soul, but he wanted to warn him,' Draco's eyes turned blue again, and it sent a shudder up Hermione's spine. She had only ever kissed a boy once before, and that was when she was seven. She kissed a golden haired boy with blue eyes called Jack on the cheek, to thank him for sharing his birthday cake with her at school. He had blushed, hugged her, and had been kind to bookish, lonely Hermione all through school.

When Hermione was ten, Jack's father got drunk and accidentally, fatally ran his son over.

She wished then that she had had her own Mephistopheles, not coming to take her soul but to warn her. About how much you should realise that people are priceless, and sometimes kindness is just in their nature.

'I never properly got through Faust, what makes you think Mephistopheles was trying to save Faust?' Hermione looked at Draco, at his hands in his lap. The hands that minutes before had made her spine light up like a candle.

'Because I suppose that I can understand Mephistopheles, that he was damned but he still wanted to save others from his own fate. Like he knew the cost wasn't worth the product.'

Hermione tentatively rested her head in his lap, and he put his arm around her, encompassing her whole world in his thin, fine arms. She noticed the fine pale hairs on his arms, barely noticeable, and they made his arms seem to glitter from the faint light filtering in through the various lamps in the Room.

Draco pressed his soft lips to Hermione's ears 'Hermione… I'm Mephistopheles. I'm going to take your soul and everything that defines you. Friends, family, Hogwarts. I'm going to kill people Hermione, but I'm warning you,' he whispered.

'No you're not,' Hermione said. 'I'll stop you. We can do it together, or I'll do it alone, but I _will_ stop you.'

**Draco**

A month ago, Hermione's threat would have been empty. But now-

'How do you even know so much about Muggle literature?'

'Father used to curse Muggle books when he was in London. He'd buy them and bring them back to wherever we were staying, but sometimes I'd read them myself. Faust, Wolfgang poems, even George Bernard Shaw. He used to freak when they disappeared, always thinking the Ministry had realised what he was up to.'

Draco could see it as if it was yesterday, him hiding under his bed, thumbing through Tennyson's 'Maud-'

The slender acacia would not shake

One long milk-bloom on the tree;

The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,

As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;

But the rose was awake all night for your sake,

Knowing your promise to me;

The lilies and roses were all awake,

They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.

Draco has licked hid lips so much he had given himself a sore; he had wanted to seal those words onto his skin, like an invisible tattoo. It stirred something within, the waiting for the promise to be fulfilled, a pause in the world for the elusive Maud.

It stirred something within him, some sort of waking dragon.

Narcissa Malfoy used to call Draco her silver angel boy, and when his father was out, his mother would lay him in her lap and run her fingers through his hair to the fin silky tips, telling him stories of great green dragons in the open English skies.

Draco wondered if that was how Hermione felt now, her head in his lap, his head against the wall, desperate to hold on to her, to pause for a moment. To keep the precious moment in a box of his own, stolen.

'Hermione, can we stay here for a while? Just for a bit?' Draco couldn't believe he was asking her when he knew he would get himself into trouble.

Hermione pulled herself up from his lap, and rested her head against the cabinet, next to Draco's, the same, faraway look in her eyes. As if she was seeing possibility.

Draco thought of something, and it worried him a little. 'You know Weasley? You don't… feel anything for him, do you?'

Hermione turned away. 'No.'

Draco relaxed, not seeing a lie when it positioned itself right in front of him, although it would take his own actions to see the truth. He leant over her and for a moment, she was Maud, and he had finished waiting.

**Harry**

Harry leaned over the Marauders Map, rubbing his deep green eyes. Being at the Weasley's was amazing, but Harry always liked to check on Hogwarts, especially now that Hermione was there for the holidays. She said that her parents were in Florida for the Christmas break, and Harry believed her. But he always liked to see who else was staying over the holidays, and he was not surprised when he saw Malfoy's name floating about.

Harry checked for Hermione in Gryffindor Tower, but she was not there, and he could not find her anywhere else.

'The Room!' he whispered to himself, and had half a mind to wake Ron, but Ronald's snoring made him hesitate.

Harry felt extremely worried about Hermione, but he put his glasses and the map away, and curled up under the covers of the bed.

At first he dreamt of Ron, himself and Hermione, standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, with his parents, happy and smiling. His mother's red hair was shining, his father's easy smile contagious.

But then the dream swirled like a Pensieve, and suddenly Harry was in one of the lower vaults of Gringotts, and he saw a greeney blue dragon, once magnificent but pale and withered now. Within its claws there was a screaming otter, screaming, _screaming…_

**The Ghost of the Room of Requirement**

Two people.

Silver, and brown.

So very, very long.

A bottle that said 'Drink Me.'

Water.

Wanted water so very much.

Cold.

Black robes.

Now white.

So white.

Death Day, a while ago.

Mimsey-Porpington, Nick.

Death.

Went, so long.

Could not see.

Too white.

Could not speak.

Long time.

Too long.

But now.

Two people.

The otter.

The dragon.

And the snake,

winds them together.

The kiss.

The secret.

Thebulletkiss.

Kissbulletkissbullet.

Curses

Heaven.

Hell.

Hope, Love, Regret.

And Death.

The Reaper came for-

me.

For me.

And now.

It comes for them.

**Hermione**

The soft whisper of light filtered in through the window of the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione's bones ached from spending most of the night on the floor of the Room of Requirement, with a threadbare blanket. Hermione had almost sworn she could feel a ghost in the Room, watching them. But Draco was half asleep, and Hermione didn't want to disturb him. His clothes had been crumpled, he had not even removed his outer jacket. He just parted his lips in his sleep, and whispered.

'_Mother? Please mother, make it stop, its hurts. Oh mother, how foolish I've been. Make it stop, tell father I can't, I won't. Make it STOP'…_

Hermione reached out and held his hand.


	6. The Sex and Death of Children of Mercy

**-**_Poison Figs received its first review today! The comment made me quite chuffed, so I thought I'd give you all another chapter thats a bit longer, with some of the Malfoys. As far as some of you may have noticed, Poison Figs is going the way of J.K. Rowling's canon writings, but it is providing a different explanation to what occurs at the very end of the Half Blood Prince. _

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 6 - THE SEX AND DEATH OF CHILDREN OF MERCY**

some ask praise of their fellows

but i being otherwise

made compose curves

and yellows, angles or silences

to a less erring end

myself is sculptor of your body's idiom: the musician of your wrists; the poet who is afraid only to mistranslate

a rhythm in your hair, (your fingertips the way you move) the

painter of your voice— beyond these elements

remarkably nothing is.…

-_is 5, _by ee cummings

**Draco**

Draco woke up in the Slytherin dungeon dorm, his head aching, and his hand still warm from Hermione's touch. He realised now, with the greenish light of his candle, that he loved Granger. He _loved _her. Perhaps that was the most obvious conclusion to anyone else, but to Draco it took him a while. The only love he had known was from his mother, and that had felt different. Warm but dangerous like burnt flesh, just before you felt the pain. The danger came from the fact that Narcissa was naturally a Black, and Blacks don't love often. When they do it comes with a price, and Narcissa's price was silence. The key to the whole Malfoy Manor was silence, and it crawled up the walls, slimed across the floor, made it's way up the polished porcelain of the bathtubs and in through your mouth, your nostrils, until you couldn't breathe anymore. Until death leaked through the walls, as innocent as rain.

Draco shook his head, trying to stop the mental banter within, thinking of his home. He instead focused on Granger, and the way she made him feel. She made him feel the afterburner of the singed flesh, the pride in the scar. The sheer sense of the forbidden touch, like standing in the hot, hot sun even though you know you will sweat, and you really shouldn't, but it feel oh so _good._ The complete undertaking of the scent of her, like mulberries and books.

It was tantalising.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, which was developing a small shock of gold in it, and sat up. He was planning to destroy the Vanishing Cabinet with Granger. It was the only way.

He walked into the Common Room and threw himself into one of the soft black couches, weighing up the options of going up for breakfast or staying in the cold dungeons. He was about to get up when a letter feel through the fireplace, with his name on it in the spiky hand of his father.

It was short of course, Lucius Malfoy was a man of many words except when it came to his son - '_Finish it, all of it.'_

Draco couldn't decide whether his father was referring top the Cabinet, or whether Lucius Malfoy had suspicions of Draco and Hermione, but either way Draco had to get smarter.

He threw the letter into the fire, and watched his father's green ink burn, the yellow sulphur spiralled up the fireplace and ended the silence.

Draco tried to be quiet, padding around the Hogwarts Library, but Granger was silent still, three books under the crook of her arm, her hair for once only mildly frizzy, curling under hear ears and bobbing in front of her eyes. Draco wondered to himself how he had never noticed the little things about her before - the way her face was slightly lopsided, so that her smiles always curled up more on the left then on the right, and when she was trying to be clever, she spoke from the side of her mouth. Her laughter was always hesitant at first and then turned crazy, wild and fearless, and her eyes grew another personality.

The worst thing about Hermione was that whenever she looked at him, Draco could tell she could see his faults, plain as day. His crooked sense of morality, his crooked stride, even his crooked lips, with the imperfect dip. He wondered if whenever she looked at him, did she see the crooked man or the tall, straight boy still lurking within?

It made him wonder what mattered most; what people saw about you in your present state, or what they saw of your potential for greatness?

The Christmas holidays were almost over and Madame Pince was already in Semester mode, giving Draco the evils as soon as she saw him lurking around the Restricted Section, while Hermione had already had the sense to copy out bits from the books while Madame Pince took a toilet break. Draco made sure no one was looking, especially not that nosy Hufflepuff MacMillan, and sidled over the Hermione in between two crammed bookcases.

'Found anything?' he whispered.

'A bit. Not much, just the usual anatomy of a magical object, curses, protection it may have. You?'

'Nothing, just a lot of blather on House Elf magic over there. Reminded me of Dobby.'

'You were horrible to Dobby!' Hermione actually looked quite cross at that moment.

'Not really. It was Father who kicked the little idiot around, and made him iron his hands. I felt so guilty when I sent Dobby to warn Potter.'

'That was _you?_' Hermione spun around, a look of complete surprise on her face.

'Yes. I had a better personality back then, Hermione,' Draco put his hand to the elastic in her hair, and unwound it, letting her curls fall free down her shoulders, and he could see her collarbone, peeking out of her shirt.

'Hmph,' Hermione grumbled, and Draco simply laughed, running his index finger along the vein on her wrist, all the way up her arm. She smiled at that, and her grin grew even wider and her bent down and kissed the faint hint of Hermione's cheekbone. She simply pulled away, pocketed her notes from the different book she had, and whispered in Draco's ear.

'We've only got 3 more days.'

Draco watched Hermione leave the Library and followed five minutes later, and they met together in the Room of Requirement.

For an hour, their arms were perpetually locked together, a tumble of love and loss, and a mixed sauce of kindness. Each whisper of the flesh, each second of pleasure and happiness was comprised of the fluid movement one makes from hate to love.

Draco's eyes felt strange as he watched the world spin about him, and he felt as if he had taken a drug. Perfection was not black and white but a rainbow of violet, sculpting him to a chipped plaster of a broken heart, of muddy blood. But yet Draco realised the blood wasn't muddy, and if it was, then mud was diamond and he was coal.

**Ron**

The dream was short and slightly muddled, but Ron could feel the sense of loss. At first he thought it was the absence of Hermione, but then again, was it something more?

Lavender has sent Ron twenty owls during the break, and he realised he had to do something about it.

**Lucius **

Lucius had been sleeping on the big old chair in the Study when he dreamed of his son, covered in mud, writhing on the floor, with blood seeping out of his eyes. When he woke, Lucius shook himself slightly, and the old fear came back into him. If his sone should fail… Lucius thought of Narcissa upstairs, with her ridiculous hair streak and constant frown, and how she must be thinking of him. Lucius decided that his idea to write a note may not have been the best, but Draco had to hurry. The Dark Lord was not going to wait forever.

**Narcissa**

Narcissa smiled at Bellatrix, who only glared back.

'And how is Draco?' Bella hissed, crossing her legs like a child.

'He's trying Bella, you have to give him time,' Narcissa was trying to keep her voice steady, but every time her sister interrogated her about Draco's progress, she only grew more agitated.

'I simply _adore _dear Draco, but the Dark Lord is… displeased at his progress.'

'You think you're the only one that knows this, Bella? Give my boy time-'

'_Your _boy? Oh _Cissy_, he is the Dark Lord's boy now.'

And in that moment, Narcissa felt the cruel loss of the one thing in this world that she could love, free of condition and obligation, free of the dark.

Of the darkness within.

**Hermione**

Hermione rubbed her hands together, her frosty fingers making her wish she had worn her gloves. Draco stood behind her, his hands wrapped around her torso, his breath warm against her neck. It was the last day of the Christmas break, and Hermione felt so much loss.

'Hermione?' Draco's teeth were chattering like broken glass, and she wanted to warm him up.

'Mmm?'

'What do you want from me?'

Hermione was take aback. It was a complicated question, and it had so many answers. Right then Hermione wanted Draco, whole, but the night before she had to admit she had wanted something only he could give - the feeling of being possessed and loved, the heat, the meeting of skin against skin. And sometimes, all she wanted was him to stop her hunger.

'I want the essence. The essence of you that makes me want to reach out to you, the essence which made me have mercy on you when you bled. I want you, so very, very much, to become your mirror.'

Draco had begun to kiss Hermione, softly at first and then harder, his breathing soft, slow, controlled. All the things that Hermione was having run away from her as his hands became musicians, sliding down her arms to her wrists. He got her to shrug off her jacket, revealing her red shirt underneath. Hermione was cold, but she didn't say a word, enjoying Draco's caresses too much.

'What are we going to do about the Cabinet?' Hermione asked, her head buried in his shoulder.

'We'll have to destroy it. We can't let them get Hogwarts, not when we can stop it. I'm sick of putting up with their bullshit.'


	7. Divina Commedia

_**-**__Ahh the reviews, thank you all :) Also, I note that some of the 'timeline' of this fix is messed up as I have not had time to fully read HBP again, so I've just been scanning through it. However, most of the fix should be in order. If there are any discrepancies, I would appreciate it very much if you told me :) Merci!_

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 7 - DIVINA COMMEDIA**

And oh poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden You've been holding on a long time And all this longing And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us

-What the Water Gave Me, by Florence and the Machine

**Draco**

Both Draco and Hermione worked tirelessly to destroy the Vanishing Cabinet, all throughout the year. Every time they attempted to bomb it, or destroy it through Dark Magic, they failed, leaving only a small scratch after Draco decided to trey the Killing Curse. It seemed to have been absorbed by the Cabinet, sending shudders throughout the already dark wood, making it almost black.

But while Draco tried so very, very hard to be a good person, his dark side, his nemesis was seeping through. Every time he kissed Hermione, he knew that he was lying, and that things were not all as they seem. All that he said to her, all the promises he made her and the affection he gave her seemed ridiculous, all a lie that sent his slick, silver, slithery soul into darkness.

One evening just after the Easter Holidays, Hermione had decided to go on the Hogsmeade trip with Harry and Ron, but left a pile of spells for Draco to try out on the Cabinet. Before she left, Draco was overwhelmed.

He had thought to himself the whole time that she had spoken to him, every look, every smile, every wink, every time she helped him out with something, and he had been guilt ridden.

'_You have the set the Dragon free. You are not a snake, not anymore. You are no one's property! Set the dragon free!' _Draco thought feverishly to himself, and he called out to Hermione just before she opened the door of the Room to leave.

'Yes?' Hermione turned around, looking slightly worried.

'You know my family's manor is in Wiltishire?' Draco was feverish.

'No.'

'Well, it is. And there is a direct, hidden Portkey in the dungeons which leads to Borgin and Burkes. I… I bought a necklace there…'

Something seemed to be dawning on Hermione's face, and she dropped her satchel in horror.

'It was made of opals, wasn't it? What about the mead, Draco? WHAT ABOUT THE MEAD?' Hermione was screaming, not terrified but so angry and the deeply hidden wrath was swarming to the surface,

Draco lowered his head in shame.

'They want me-they wan't me to kill him. Dumbledore. I can't look at his face when I do it. At those _eyes._ He knows me, Hermione. He knows my very _soul.'_

Hermione raised her wand, and Draco started backward as she ran forward and shoved the tip of her Dragon Heartstring to his throat, the wood slightly pointed.

'Now I _know _really why Harry suspected you! He couldn't have been more right! You've had Sectumsempra used on your before, and Harry cast it. _The Phoenix cast it! _Now Phoenix wands are powerful, very powerful, and it could sense your fear, not because you were innocent, but because you were guilty! No wonder Harry made a meal out of you! You were dying when he cast that spell, when he told us about it, I was sure! But I couldn't do as much to you now, could I? You too rotten, an apple thats shiny on the skin but when you bite into it-' Hermione put her hand slowly up to the back of Draco's head, and bought him down to her height.

He felt vulnerable, as tall as he was, she was causing such fear in him, that he almost wanted to slap her away. But then he realised who really had the wand to who's throat.

'I don't want to do it anymore, Hermione. I only did it because I was scared. When Katie Bell was in the care of Madame Pomfrey, I snuck in their during the night and tried the counter curse that I had learnt from Borgin. Even though I had never tried it before, it helped her a little. I am so, so, so very sorry for all of the things that I have done. Everything. I have taken, I have hated, and now I am repelling those who love me, or who can at least see some worth in me. I am despicable. If you can see something good in me, you might as well kill me now, because I cannot see that good lasting any more.'

Hermione's expression was still hard, but she seemed to be calculating the risk of letting an attempting murderer and ally to Voldemort escape, against her own convictions.

'Why now?' she asked, her eyes like poisoned chocolate.

'Because I am a dragon, not a snake. Snakes slither and lie through their teeth, their tongues flicking in and out, in and out. Winding and twisting, thin and silky but ready to strike, hiding and sneering and foul. Dragons are strength, honesty. Dangerous, but honest. Neither here or there, neither good nor bad. Simply a being, of its own choices. I couldn't be that when I lie to you. You're wand is Dragonheartstring, yeah?'

Hermione nodded, sticking the wand further into his throat.

'Then you are my heart. Not in a way that means you are my beat, but you are my _flame. _You burn, Hermione Granger.'

Hermione looked angry, and he could see that he was being manipulative, fiddling with her emotions, crushing her sense and her mind.

'I don't have Veritaserum, Draco. I can't just know that you're telling the truth. And I can't trust you anymore. _I wish you were Ron,_' Hermione muttered the last remark under her breath.

'What? Why Ginger?'

'Because, he doesn't hide everything. When he does he is very good at it, but when he doesn't try, you can see what he means, and when he says things, you know he's means what he is saying. You were born a liar, and I don't think that you can help it, but it is what you are. You may have changed, but…' Hermione began to mumble things under her breath.

'What are you doing?' Draco tried to release himself from her grip, but he was locked.

'Hold still, dammit! I had to keep you _still, _screw that if I'm going to let you bugger off when i can't trust you! A wild, secretive, blonde killer! It's like a muggle tv show!'

Slowly Draco could feel an uncomfortable prickling going throughout his body, not like the prickling of the hunger, but the prickling of heat, like sparks jumping off a fire. He tried to move, but he was stiff while held under Hermione's fingers.

Finally, Hermione stepped back, and she admired him, waving her wand to let him move. 'I don't know how well its gone, but I've put a Taboo on you. Not what you say, but your actions. If you attempt to harm Dumbledore, I will be notified, and you won't be able to do it. I think if it comes to it you won't, but I have to be sure. Dumbledore can't die. He's keeps the wall singing.'

Draco laughed, and for once he was truly grateful for what Hermione had done. 'Lets test it, shall we? _I want to murder Professor Dumbledore in cold blood.'_

Hermione gasped as fine black writing appeared on her hand. 'Taboo,' she whispered.

As she writing appeared, Draco started to choke, until he forced himself to think of when he was five and he slipped down the cold stone steps of the Malfoy Manor House, and he broke some of the bones in his fingers. He had screamed as his father repaired them, but his father only ignored his cries, flicking his wand up and down, saying the spell like he was reading the paper. His throat was released by the invisible hands, and he could breathe again.

'At least I know it works,' Hermione surprisingly winked at Draco, pocketed her wand, and left for Hogsmeade.

**Hermione**

Hogsmeade was still the same as it had been since their third year, minus the beautiful snow that usually graced the town during winter. Now it was Spring, and even the weeds around the Three Broomsticks were sprouting bright yellow dandelions. Exams were coming up, but Hermione still indulged in the Hogsmeade trip, her arms linked up with Ron's and Harry's, just as they had been when they saw the cursed Katie Bell.

Honeydukes had restocked for Spring with Spring-themed sweets, lollipops and the shape of daisies, and charmed so that every time you try to lick it, the sugar centre of the flower changed colours.

Hermione indulged herself and bought paper bags of sweets and sugar quills, with black ink. She noticed that Zonko's had bought in some of the Weasley's goods, such as the Peruvian Darkness Powder and the little Telescope with the fist. It may have just been a trick of the light, but Hermione could almost swear she had seen a silvery blonde head bobbing around the counter of Zonko's, but when she looked back, there was no one to be seen besides Maisie-Lynn working behind the counter.

When Hermione returned to the school, she found Draco in the Room of Requirement as per usual, but he looked flustered.

'Where you in Hogsmeade?' she asked, hesitant.

'Nope. Just been throwing things at this thing-' he indicated the Cabinet, 'and studying for the first batch of Exams. Not really any point, since I'm going to have to leave at the end of this year. If we manage to destroy the Cabinet, they're going to be baying for my blood.'

Hermione nodded, and sat down on an old crate, and it creaked beneath her. She could hear the wind, dutifully whistling through the stones of the walls of the Room of Requirement.

'I don't think we can destroy it, though,' Draco broke through the pattern of the flickering flame of the candle propped up on a renegade table.

'Why not? We have to be making some impact on it, remember the Curse you threw at it? It rippled, it shuddered, as if it was afraid,' Hermione felt like she had made a correct inference, the wood had turned dark, surely that was a sign that they had corrupted it.

'Maybe it wasn't afraid. Maybe it was happy, quivering with delight. I think when it got darker, we weren't harming it-we were feeding the magic that protects it,' Draco sounded dejected.

Hermione suddenly found her point of view changing, to the way the Cabinet seemed to be even more sinister every time she looked.

'We're going to have to let them in then, on the night that they're supposed to come. We'll trap them. We'll be ready.'

**Draco**

As Hermione spoke, Draco could see the spark in Hermione's eyes, and it seemed that as they fell deeper into the Inferno, Hermione could see it.

But she was not afraid.


	8. Fostering Malice PART I

_-I decided that this chapter was going to be in two parts so that I could shove a cliffhanger in there, as well as create some irreverent sub-ships. Part II to be up later._

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 8 ****–**** FOSTERING MALICE (PART I)**

"The cuckoo bird," she said. "You see, cuckoos are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds' nests. When the egg hatches, the baby cuckoo pushes the other baby birds out of the nest. The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places."  
>"Enormous? Did you just call me fat?"<br>"It was an analogy."  
>"I am not fat."<br>- Jace and the Inquisitor, City of Ashes, by Cassandra Clare

**Hermione**

It was quite ironic, the way life could treat you. Nomatter what you offered it, it still threw things back in your face. A bit like the losing child in the egg and spoon race. Sometimes Hermione would find herself staring in the mirror, at this brown-haired stranger with outer-space eyes and caramel tones, an otter caught in the sunlight.

She wondered who really saw any worth in her, and if they did, why? Besides her ability to cast spells, Hermione was a Muggle. Before she came to Hogwarts, she had been average at school, terrible at most Mathematics, disliked Sport, and has very little friends. The only thing she had excelled in was Reading and Writing, and even then she was disliked by everyone.

Then she came to Hogwarts, and she was accepted, reluctantly by most but still, _accepted. _What does magic do to people?

Hermione drew herself out of thoughts, and glanced at Ron sitting beside her, his ginger mop a mess, his eyes squinting at the Runes on the parchment he held.

'Hermione, how on earth do you read this rubbish?'

'It takes study, Ronald,' Hermione smirked.

'Looks like something one of mum's chickens scratched out.'

Harry, sitting on the floor between them, threw The Daily Prophet into the fire and started laughing, while Hermione snatched back her Rune sheet defensively.

'Oh Mione, I just meant-' Ron looked slightly sorry although he was attempting to stifle a grin, and Hermione gave Harry a kick which stopped his shudders.

'Its okay Ron. Harry, has Dumbledore said anything else about… You-Know-Who?'

'No. He hasn't told me anything new. After collecting that memory about Slughorn and Voldemort, I feel like I'm just chasing air. And his hand… I know his hand has been like that since he got Marvolo's ring.'

Hermione nodded, and she felt a sorrow rising up in her chest. It was like the time when she was seven and tried to cook pasta, only she left the stove on for too long. She had found a stool and tried to climb up to the pot, but it over boiled and water came pouring, bubbling over the sides of the pot and little Hermione was washed in a bath of fire and squishy alphabet pasta.

Salty tears came down her face at the sight of the blurry figures in front of her, and at first her memory of the pasta and her present were blurred in the mix of guilt.

All she wanted was forgiveness.

'Hermione?' Ron gently shook her shoulder.

Hermione wiped her eyes and bent her head down to face a bewildered Harry.

'Harry… I'm so sorry.'

'For what?'

Hermione looked into the scar etched upon Harry's forehead, slightly reddened as if someone had stole into his bed during the night, and cut it open. It was a scar filled with hate, love, kindness, ugliness, horror, beauty, and the amazing amount of sanity a person would have to have to cope with the life of Harry James Potter.

Hermione knelt down, and without thought, she pressed her lips to Harry's.

'For everything. That was the first and last time I'll do that, but you can't go through life without forgiveness.

Hermione rose from the floor, gathered up her books and parchment, and left the Common Room.

**Harry**

Harry's lips stung a little at the aftermath of Hermione's kiss. He didn't know whether it was a good sting or a bad one, but either way, he saw Ginny walk in from the Girl's Dorm, and the sting was no longer a strange memory but rather a reminder of forgiveness. Of goodness. Of kisses and slaps.

Harry got up from the soft red carpet and sat next to Ron, who was looking forlorn.

'What was all that about?' he asked.

'I have no idea,' Harry lied, but he did.

'If I had been in your place mate…' For once Ron looked angry at Harry, and Harry didn't know where to look.

Ron hesitated before speaking. 'Did she… Was it…?'

Harry tried to understand Ron Weasley, but sometimes that took a lot of effort. Ron was a cryptic and often confusing, and that usually resulted in Harry looking mildly baffled until Ron's mood swing ended. But this time, Harry did understand.

'No Ron. She's still the sister I never had.'

Ron's relief was evident, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the way that his mouth softened from a hard line into a grin, and how the lines around his blue eyes relaxed.

'If you've got something to tell her, why don't you just go up to her and say so?'

'Can't mate. Besides, what have I got to tell her? Nothing, nothing at all,' Ron suddenly seemed intent on beginning his exam notes all of a sudden, so much that he slopped ink on his tie and didn't even notice.

'Alright,' Harry pulled a quill from the remainders of Hermione's pile, and with it came a small sheet of parchment-

_Midnight, Astronomy Tower. They haven't told me when, but I think it's soon. Very, very soon. Bring the apple._

Harry was confused. The handwriting was spiralling and angular at the same time, as well as unfamiliar. Ron's was simple and pointed, Hermione's was neat and curvy, and Harry's own was elaborate scratches.

This on the other hand, was the handwriting of the Queen. Harry almost thought about pocketing the note, but then he decided it might be better off if he simply donned the Invisibility Cloak and saw what Hermione was doing.

Harry copied out the note, buried it in his pocket, and began his notes.


	9. Fostering Malice PART II

_-Part 2 of Chapter 8. Or it might be a new chapter, I really can't decide, so I'll leave it saying Part 2. Or maybe it isn't. Who knows, this commentary amuses me too much so on with the party, so to speak._

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 8 or 9-ish - FOSTERING MALICE (PART II)**

I was angry with my friend.

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe.

I told it not, my wrath did grow;

And I water'd it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles;

And it grew both day and night

Till it bore an apple bright,

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veil'd the pole.

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

-Poison Tree by William Blake

**Voldemort**

Tom Riddle wouldn't call himself a cruel man.

After all, there wasn't any man left in him, was there? There was just the dark beauty of immortality, the feeling of Nagini by his side, her slithering music to his ears. No matter how much he was called Lord Voldemort by the lessers, and the Dark Lord by his followers, what was left of man within Voldemort (however much he denied to himself that it was there) was called Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was still the boy who met the old, old man in the funny clothes in the Orphanage, who set the wardrobe on fire. Tom flexed his long, skeletal fingers at the thought of his satisfaction when he bought the children back, shuddering and muddled from the cave.

Oh how he had smiled.

But now in Albania, cloaked, under the tree, with Lucius' wand in his hand, all Tom felt was strength. Pure strength. He stroked the bark of the tree where the Diadem had been hidden for so long before he _relocated_ it, and laughed. He had killed some pathetic Muggle who refused to let him into her pitiful extension of the grounds, and Tom had felt ridiculously lazy as her drew back her hood.

Oh how she had _screamed_.

And it had only taken two words, two little words to dispose of the little- _inconvenience._

'Avada Kedavra!' he had smiled, as that screaming, grey haired, Muggle fell to the floor with an ungracious slap.

Tom had stepped over the body, and the sheer quiet of the shame of Death enveloped him. He wound Nagini around his neck and almost threw her at Death, thinking of how he had cheated It.

And now Tom was at the tree, one of the beginnings, and all he wanted to do was burn it up.

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood back as the bearer of the Diadem was engulfed in flame.

**Lucius **

Lucius Malfoy felt as if he had been slapped. Mind you, Narcissa's harsh look was enough.

'Narcissa! Calm yourself! The Dark Lord expects better of us!' Lucius attempted to reason with her.

'Calm myself? The Dark Lord has put our son on the chopping block, doomed to fail, and you expect me to be calm?' Narcissa's hair shone in the light of the candelabra, and Lucius felt himself weathering away under her fury.

'Do not speak of it! We are to be quiet, we must beg forgiveness, Draco is lucky to have been favoured-'

'Favoured! It is murder!'

Lucius walked up to his wife, pulled at the collar of her dress, and hissed at her.

'Do not _speak _ of it! It is the last time I shall tell you! How many others do you think he has killed? How many? He will not blink at our deaths, we are only here as long as we are useful. So while he has the manor, we are safe. As long as we give him all he asks, we are safe.'

'Even our son?'

Lucius hesitated for a moment, before answering.

'Even our son. Especially him. He is safer there than here.'

Narcissa's body relaxed and Lucius released his wife, and turned to head for his study.

The name Malfoy was old, and the Manor which bore its name was older still. The stone walls sung sometimes, above the ticking of the Grandfather clock, above the sound of the Dark Lord's snake slithering. Above the sound of Lucius' own footsteps, tapping up the stairs, the bannister creaking. Above the sound of the distant hours, singing of the blood and silence that ran throughout the house, of death and life… and of cruelty.

Purity of blood could only get you so far… Lucius shuddered as he thought of Bellatrix, once a beautiful woman who had grown gaunt and skeletal after years in Azkaban. Her hooded lids, the curls of her black hair. The Blacks. Inbred and psychotic about Purity. Lucius was himself but the thought of marrying his cousin… The little rat Galloway had gone off and married a Muggle, and then been surprised when she was cast out by the Malfoy clan.

And then Bellatrix went and killed the oh so famous Sirius Black, the star dog, the Animagus who couldn't keep his sticky fingers away from the Dark Lord's business and just _had_ to go and save Potter.

Oh _Potter._

What a ridiculous excuse of a wizard, who associated himself with Muggleborns.

Who got himself into Prophesies when he was bound to just anger the Dark Lord. How the Dark Lord had been mad at him, wishing for a chance to rewind.

Lucius finally came into his study, and made his way to the mirror above the couch. He looked into it, and was frightened by what he saw.

The face in the mirror was dark, gaunt, sickly. Purple from bruises and lack of sleep, with darkened eyes, and hair that had once been white but had turned a different shade of grey from worry and fear. The teeth that were once pearly white had turned a true British stereotype yellow, like a common Muggle tramp's.

And in the eyes there was such fear, and it rose within Lucius Malfoy's body like a volcano ready to explode.

Lucius turned away, and sat at his desk, opened his drawer, and drew from within it a quill, an inkpot, and a sheet of parchment.

He wanted to end it, his life, his pitiful excuse for life.

He started scratching away, and when he was happy with what he had done, he put down the quill and re-read his own death marker.

_Dear Narcissa,_

_This is an explanation, and somewhat an apology. I have done terrible things, terrifying things, and they have changed me so much that when I look in the mirror, I no longer can see myself. _

_When you fear the man in your reflection, you know you have become your worst fear._

_Fear is for the weak._

_I am weak._

_We are snakes, and the dark is rising._

_My death is a sentence that should have been passed long ago._

_Lucius._

Suddenly, Lucius' felt the Mark begin to burn and squirm under his rode, feverish and hot.

The Dark Lord appeared before Lucius, with burning embers clutching to his cloak and a grin bared on his snake like face.

'Lucius. How apt you are at… forgetting things,' Voldemort purred.

Voldemort waved his wand and the death note rose to his fingertips. Voldemort's evil eyes followed the cursive handwriting, and he laughed at every sentence, every scratched out word.

'Oh Lucius. I have your wand, I have your Manor, and I have your son. You are weak, yes… But you still hold value,' Voldemort came towards the desk, and curled his index finger.

Lucius felt invisible hand lift him from his chair and slam him against the stone wall. Voldemort walked up to Lucius, and held one cold, long, bony hand around his throat.

'You are like a candle, Lucius. A stubby, almost burnt out candle. The wick is gone, but the wax is still there, pooled up like a useless rag. The wax can be melted and poured into the mould of another candle with a wick. Contribute to the whole, Lucius. How shameful that you no longer wished to contribute,' Voldemort's slitted eyes grew darker.

'My Lord… I only wished to take my own life, not to harm your great cause…'

'How very… _selfish _of you, Lucius. You don't die until I say so,' and with a great thump, Lucius hit the floor.

The last thing he saw was the cloak of Voldemort, spiralling away like Death Itself.

**Hermione**

Hermione walked up the Astronomy Tower, with the strangest feeling that she was being followed.

Of course. She had been prepared for that when she saw Draco's note slightly smudged with the deep green ink that Harry used.

She watched the stone steps as she climbed, seeing the little clouds of dust rise as Harry stepped in behind her, crouched under the Invisibility Cloak. Once she was sure of his where abbots, Hermione drew the Cloak off Harry's head.

'Hermione!' He yelped, his glasses askew.

'Thought you'd take a little night walk?' Hermione raised her eyebrows.

'I-I… How did you know I was coming?' Harry tried to backtrack.

'Oh _Harry_, I've travelled under that thing with you and Ron for years now, I think I know when it's trailing after me like a ferret. Besides, I'd clean my hands before I started reading other people's things.'

Harry grinned a little, and his emerald eyes danced in the torchlight.

'Harry, _I _wrote that note to myself. I change my handwriting when I write things to myself. Its just so I remember things, and I just come up here to study. For the quiet of the night.' Hermione tried to smile reassuringly.

Harry's expression was dubious, but he seemed to grudgingly accept the fumbled explanation, and he turned away.

Hermione sighed with relief, casted a silence spell, and continued up the Tower, her head filled with relief.

'Draco?' Hermione looked about the Tower, and with relief saw Draco in the corner, his head in his lap.

'Hermione,' he whispered, and for once he seemed relieved to see her. She ran over to him and he stood up and hugged her, his arms thinner than ever.

'My father wrote to me, he keeps asking me to hurry, and I don't know what to do. The Cabinet still isn't repaired, I've tried everything but it only sends things like apples… The fly died, and so did the weed. Everything living dies in there. It's like… It's like its _him_ in there, trying to get me to fail, just so he can kill me,' Draco sunk to the ground again, taking Hermione with him. She could feel the fever running through his blood, and noticed how ill he was looking, how vexed.

'Draco… I've looked into everything, and the only think I can think of is that the Cabinet works by Dissaparation. That doesn't work in Hogwarts, and unless we can trick Hogwarts into thinking the Cabinet doesn't exist, that Cabinet is not going to work and you are going to have to run.'

Draco looked horror stricken. 'Hermione, why are you helping me? This is the beginning of the end, nothing can stop it.'

'We can. Dumbledore's Army, the Order of the Phoenix - we're not over. If this is the beginning of the end, and the dark is rising, then we must rise with it. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, I once said. That applies to this… we can't fear it, we can only fight it!' Hermione leant forward and kissed Draco, and she felt herself burn. Draco still looked as if he was in another world, frightened like he had never been before. She suddenly felt frustrated. She had lied to her friends, and hidden a Death Eater.

Hermione took one look at the very beaten, pitiful Draco, and gave him a slap to wake Godric Gryffindor himself.

'Why did you slap me, Hermione? You crazy witch, what the hell did you think you were doing?' Draco put his hand to his burning face and all his fear was gone, just like that.

'There you are, Draco! I was looking for you! It seems you were replaced with a placid _boy_, and we don't need him anymore!'

Draco started to smile, his eyes turquoise again, his face changing.

'I killed the boy. I killed the boy and a monster grew from the anarchy within. But the man is waiting, Granger. The man is waiting to rise, to go to war!'

**Draco**

Draco grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her down the stairs. When she understood where he was going, she pulled her arm from his grip and began to run beside him, the sound of their trainers scuffing at the floor. They avoided Filch by hiding in the girl's bathroom, although Mrs Norris sniffed about with suspicion, she soon padded out. Hermione walked slowly out of the bathroom, checked the coast was clear and gestured to Draco. They both snuck out of the bathroom, and walked in front of the wall of the Room, willing it forth.

The door finally appeared, and Draco walked in.

The Cabinet was where it always was, stowed away and un-inspired, a shabby cabinet at first glance. But the closer you got, the more noticeable it was, the power it pulsed away with, the feeling of foreboding it gave off.

'Hermione… If the Room of Requirement can fulfil what you need the most, watt about another magical copy? If what we needed the most was a copy of the Room, within Hogwarts but… not within. Hogwarts will be confused by it, It wont recognise the copy.'

Hermione nodded, and ran her hand along the black expanse of wall.

'I think it'll work, I really do. Come on.'

Draco walked over to Hermione and wound his fingers through hers. 'Think of another Room. A place to hide something within Hogwarts, a place that has never been here before.'

Draco thought, but his thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's smile, by his mother's smile, by the hawking of a crow and a laugh of a little blonde angel boy, running through a maze. The smell of petrichor, and the feeling of rain soaking through clothes. The sound of a little boy crying in the corner of his room, because the scary skeleton man was scaring Mummy and Daddy.

He drew back as a huge black door appeared in the wall, groaning and creaking as Hogwarts did something it had never done before.

Hermione ran forward and wrenched the door open, while Draco began to levitate the Cabinet.

'Draco… It's _worked_! Its an exact copy… but cleaner. Less rubbish about,' Hermione joined her wand with Draco's as the Cabinet hovered into the new Room, creaking and whistling with the wind from Borgin and Burkes.

They finally dropped it into the centre of the room, and clouds of dust fell off the top of the Cabinet.

Hermione dusted her hands and for once looked quite afraid of the Cabinet. She ran her finger over the knobs of the door. 'Draco, look. Its like its singing, like it got what it wanted.'

Draco pressed his ear to the front door of the Cabinet and he could hear the whistling, but it was as if it had become a song, haunting and as old as magic itself.

'It might be able to fix itself. I think Hogwarts had created a sort of magical barrier, protecting itself from intruders, but now, the Cabinet's magic can bind itself to this new Room,' Hermione stepped back.

'And meanwhile, we're leading them in,' Draco suddenly felt shaky, like he was betraying some great unspoken rule. He felt tears gathering in his eyes.

'This is war.'


	10. Somethine Wicked This Way Comes

-_Some of you may think that a Cabinet can't have a POV. Well, this is Harry Potter, life is rather unfortunate, and everything is rather irrelevant if you cant poison a good fig. So touche' madam, and pass do pass the sherry._

_-It's now past midnight and I am writing this on the energy of Fush and Chups, so please forgive if my storyline is a little flat. I may have to go and get my copy of HBP and clear some of my 'spilled martinis' up. _

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 10 - SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES**

We are very concerned.

-Emily Browning, _A Series of Unfortunate Events_

**Cabinet**

The Cabinet shuddered.

The Cabinet gleamed.

The Cabinet felt that what had kept it from repairing itself was gone.

The Cabinet had once been good, and it knew that, but now it was something else entirely, something of a new breed. Times were evolving, there was a change in the air. The Cabinet knew it and so did the original Room

Thats why the Room had kept the Cabinet chained by a force of magic only Dumbledore could produce.

But now, the Cabinet had a purpose. It was alive again.

And it needed magic born children, and it was magic born children who had freed it.

So the Cabinet shuddered.

The walls of Hogwarts remembered a boy who had been there long ago, a handsome boy, with a slithery voice and secrets.

Oh he was full of secrets.

**Draco**

Draco buried his head in Hermione's shoulder, as hers was in his, and he tried to dull the throbbing behind his eyeballs. His first exam was tomorrow, but the Cabinet seemed to be drawing them in, not letting them escape…

'Draco, what if… what if we can't leave? They'e coming soon, and now the Cabinet is repairing… It's like we're being held here…'

Draco nodded, and slowly slid his hand into her pocket for her wand. Draco's wand had a Unicorn core while Hermione's he knew had a Dragon heartstring core. Unicorn wands were _good, _while Dragon heartstring cores were somewhat… interchangeable with the kinds of magic they performed. If anything could get them out of the glare of the Cabinet, Hermione could.

Draco pressed his lips to Hermione's ear.

'You've got to cast a spell or something, something that'll lock this Room up until the thirtieth.'

Draco twisted his head slightly, forced to look at the Cabinet again as he saw the fear and uncertainty in Hermione's expression.

'I don't know it-'

'You can. You snapped me out of my pathetic state, you can stand up to, a, a, giant Cabinet,' Draco was lying; he wasn't positive that Hermione could do anything, but he trusted her.

Draco Malfoy was starting to realise that he did in fact, trust Hermione Granger with his life.

'Okay. Get ready to run. I'll make a small explosion and we'll… er…. _run!_ Reducto!' Hermione yelled, pointed at the Cabinet, which seemed to get a sort of magical shock. Hermione grabbed Draco's wrist and they both ran towards the door of the Room. Hermione slammed it shut behind her, and for a moment the both of them leaned against the door, covered in sweat.

Draco pressed his ear to the door, and at first all was quiet.

Then there was a strange noise, like a cracking of stone.

'Come on,' Hermione nodded towards the door of the original Room, 'might as well get some sleep.'

Draco nodded, gave her a quick hug and began his Descent.

**Hermione**

The exams were frightening as always, but Hermione had studied as much as possible.

That morning, Ron had almost fallen over when he realised his first exam was that morning, but Harry… Harry had looked somewhat preoccupied. Hermione couldn't be sure, but she was getting suspicious that Harry had not told them something. He had been acting fidgety ever since the Roonil Wazlib, Advance Potion Making Incident, and Hermione had the sense of a 'foreshadowing'.

Something Wicked This Way Comes.

_-And so I end the chapter earlier than normal, since I only planned for this to clear up the previous chapter etc I also need to re-read bits of HBP and polish up. As Boromir would say, 'once does not simply walk into Mordor!' Not unarmed, anyway. Or without m&m's. Or coffee. Which I am in possession of neither, so happy waiting for Sasha to go to IGA. _


	11. The Dark Descends

-_A chapter about some broken bottles, and a plan gone wrong._

_-A lot of this chapter has remained accurate to its original __**dialogue**__ from Chapter 25 onwards, so with all due respect, all included dialogue, characters, events etc copyright J.K. Rowling._

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 11 - THE DARK DESCENDS **

An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent...

Drifting in space through an endless shifting maze...

For such a creature, death would be a gift.

-Matt Smith as Eleven, Doctor Who: the God Complex

**Harry**

Harry could see black haired Jimmy Peakes bobbing up beside him, a scroll of parchment held tightly in his fist.

'Thanks, Jimmy… Hey its from Dumbledore!' Harry roughly unrolled the parchment, eager. He scanned the contents, his eyes flying across the page. He became unaware of anything except for Dumbledore's elegant script, curling and questioning.

'He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!' Harry almost leaped out of his chair, but he forced himself to look at Ron, searching for Ron's calm. He found none.

'Blimey,' Ron whispered, 'You don't reckon… He hasn't found…?'

Harry pocketed the parchment and jumped up. 'Better go and see, hadn''t I?'

Harry jogged out of the Common Room, the rubber soles of his shoes skidding along the corridor of the seventh floor. Thoughts were spinning around in his head, like a nightmare he couldn't pull himself out of. Luckily the corridor was deserted except for chalk throwing, cackling Peeves, who seemed quite bored anyway by the whole experience.

Harry threw a defensive jinx and and started running, yet he was haunted by the silence that preceded curfew.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a scream a crash loud enough to wake Godric Gryffindor.

'How - _dare_ - you - aaaaargh!'

The calamity seemed to be coming from a nearby corridor; Harry withdrew his wand, threw himself around a corner and saw a rather dismantled Divination professor.

**Professor Trelawney**

Sybil Trelawney felt very dizzy, and there was a dull throbbing in the back of her skull. She felt rather crowded, with her various shawls about her, and she thought to herself that perhaps she should buy less shawls.

She blinked behind her rather fly-like glasses and saw her many sherry bottles scattered around her, one particularly nice one smashed to smithereens. 'Bugger,' she thought to herself.

'Professor-'

Sybil rolled her head and found herself looking into the bright green eyes of Harry Potter. 'Harry Potter… neither can live while the other survives…' Sybil shook her head, and thought she'd better lay off the herbal tea. Harry reached out to Sybil's flailing arms and pulled her up, with her beads clanking against her glasses. She hiccoughed, smacked down her frizzed out hair, and teetered on Harry's outstretched arm.

'What happened, Professor?' Harry looked quite frightened, and this shocked Sybil.

'You may well ask!' she said, shrill and frazzled. 'I was strolling along, brooding upon certain Dark portents I happen to have glimpsed…' Sybil patted herself down, but she noticed Harry seemed to be preoccupied with the rather hideous tapestry of dancing trolls, and beyond that the large span of stone wall that concealed-

'Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?'

_Damn._

'…omens I have vouchsafed - what?' Sybil feigned ignorance, but her defensive mode was on.

'The Room of Requirement,' Harry repeated, a little louder, his eyes growing small and wee. 'Were you trying to get in there?'

Sybil mentally flapped, 'I - well - I didn't know students knew about-'

But of course they did. If anyone did, Harry Potter did.

'Not all of them do,' Harry said, looking like he wanted to run. His eyes were greener than before, shifting about. 'But what happened? You screamed… it sounded as though you were hurt…'

Sybil felt she should proceed with caution. Her dreams… the escapes of the Potter boy… Sybil decided that she was probably better off with her Inner Eye kept quiet.

**Harry**

Harry looked at the Professor, the sherry glasses, and his knowledge of her predictions.

'I - well,' said Professor Trelawney, pulling her shawls about her as if they were shields, and looking at him like a bug under a magnifying glass. 'I wished to - ah - deposit certain - um - personal items in the Room… ' Trelawney and muttered something like 'nasty accusations.'

'Right,' Harry said, looking down at the fancy sherry bottles with the slightest amount of concern. 'But you couldn't get in and hide them?' Harry felt as if something was very off, considering the fact that the Room had opened when he tried to hide his copy of Advance Potion Making.

Professor Trelawney suddenly looked quite disgruntled. 'Oh, I got in all right,' she said, giving the wall a feeble glare, 'but there was somebody else in there.'

Harry suddenly had an inkling of who might've been in there. 'Somebody in - ? Who?' he demanded, pushing his glasses further up his nose. 'Who was in there, Professor?'

'I have no idea,' said the Professor, looking slightly taken aback at the urgency of Harry's tone. 'I walked into the Room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding - of using the Room, I mean.'

'A voice? Saying what?'

'I don't know that it was _saying_ anything. It was… whooping.'

'_Whooping?'_

'Gleefully,' the Professor nodded, looking remotely uninterested by the current topic of conversation.

Harry stared at her. This whooping did not sound anything like who he suspected, but then again…

'Was it male or female?'

'I would hazard guess at male.'

'And it sounded happy?'

'Very happy,' Professor Trelawney sniffed, as if whooping was a thing only done by contented people.

'As though it was celebrating?'

'Most definitely.'

'An then -'

'And then I called out, "Who's there?"'

'You couldn't have found out who it was without asking?' Harry asked, frustrated. Professor Trelawney tottered about blasting on about her Inner Eye, but at the moment it seemed in need of some urgent repairs.

Professor Trelawney mustered up as much dignity she could by ruffling her scarves and beaded necklaces like a conceited bird. 'The Inner Eye was fixed upon matters well outside the mundane world of… _whooping voices.'_

'Right,' Harry butted in, quite sick and tired of the Inner Eye, 'and did the voice say who was there?'

'No, it did not,' Trelawney started to look quite cross. 'Everything went pitch black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurtled headfirst out of the Room!'

Harry couldn't hide his amusement. 'And you didn't happen to see that coming?' Harry tried to stifle a laugh.

'No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch -' The Professor blinked at Harry, resembling a giant glittery bug, which only added to the effect.

'I think you'd better tell Professor Dumbledore,' Harry said. 'He ought to know Malfoy's celebrating - I mean, that someone threw you out of the Room.'

The Professor started yammering about how Dumbledore did not value her, and she whispered something about the Lightening Struck Tower…

They began to walk towards Dumbledore's office, with Trelawney continually muttering away and Harry attempting to make as little conversation with the sparkly Professor as possible, until -

'… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!'

Harry's mind snapped to attention, the cogs within running around like a go cart.

'What?'

'Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself thought he had been apprehended eavesdropping on my interveiw with Dumbledore - you see, he himself was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up some tips! Well, after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated the stark contrast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes - Harry, dear?'

Harry was ten feet behind Trelawney, his face white, his head spinning.

Snape.

Snape.

_Snape._

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the Prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their _son…_

Harry's brain went into overload, and all he could think of was seeing Dumbledore, at that moment. His lips felt numb, as if he had been standing still a very, very long time.

Harry ran past Trelawney, past everything, past his suspicions into reality. What else had he missed? he wondered. He leaped up the moving spiral staircase of Dumbledore's office, and slammed his fist on Dumbledore's door. Fawkes was calm on his perch, his eyes filled with the hope of the sunset beyond, calm, like pools of hope and love, and something more.

Dumbledore was by the window, his travelling cloak at the ready, with a grave expression on his face.

'Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me.'

**Draco**

For once in his life, Draco Malfoy truly felt afraid. It was fear that went through his body, that made him feel like a version of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, flickering between the good in him and the bad. The Cabinet stood in front of him, dark and evil, all that was sick and dark int he world.

He felt ill.

Before tonight, he had been warned.

Before Potter, he had been warned.

Dumbledore had warned him, and lifted Hermione's taboo.

Even Hermione didn't know, the one person who truly, truly loved him in the world, did not know.

Draco almost threw up, but he managed to reach for the Cabinet, and pull it open. Immediately he could smell the Dark Magic, feel it in his bones. He shuddered as he placed the black rose in the Cabinet, with a tiny scroll of parchment around it.

_Ready, _it said.

The Cabinet closed of its own accord, and there was a strange series of sounds, like various doors of wardrobes being opened and closed, throughout the space between Hogwarts and London.

Then there was the sound of someone doing a smart knock on the door. Draco opened the Cabinet door, and the black rose had returned, with a new scroll.

_Coming._

Draco's heart seemed to stop with his breathing for a moment, and that was when the door to the Room appeared. The sparkly, bug-like Professor Trelawney was clanking in. Draco had to keep up appearances, Dumbledore had told him. So he mustered a half hearted whoop, and reached into his pocket for the Weasley's infamous Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

'Expulso,' Draco muttered, pointing at the little smudge of the door he could see just over the span of the powder, and Professor Trelawney went flying out the door, which closed decidedly behind her.

Draco then began to pace, as he awaited the arrival of the Death Eaters, and his rather foul Aunt Bellatrix.

**Hermione**

Hermione was sitting next to Ron, biting her nails, when Harry come running into the Common Room.

'What does Dumbledore want?' she exploded. 'Harry, are you ok?'

'I'm fine,' Harry said quickly, and bolted up the stairs in the direction of the boy's dorm.

When he came back down, he looked so anxious that without thinking, Hermione reached out for Ron's hand. He slipped his fingers between hers.

'I haven't got much time. Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen,' and quicker than Hermione though possible, Harry blurted out everything.

Both Hermione and Ron tried to interrupt, but Harry was a steam train, stopping for nothing.

'… so do you see what this means?' Harry finished, panting. 'Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another clear shot at whatever he's up to.'

Hermione thought about interrupting, about telling him that she was planning to alert the Army, about how they were prepared. But then it struck her that they _weren't_ prepared. Dumbledore was leaving. He was going, and Draco was all alone, left with no choice but to allow the Death Eaters in.

She wanted to hold Harry there, to tell him to warn Dumbledore, to scream… Anything other than accepting the Marauders Map and the Felix Felicis from Harry.

'Don't look like that, Hermione, I'll see you later…' was the last thing Harry said to Hermione before he left her and Ron, hands locked, with the realisation that the War has truly begun.

'Ron, I want you to find Ginny, tell her everything as quickly as possible. Take some of the Felix Felicis,' Hermione took a small gulp from the little bottle, 'and do it _quickly._ Something was supposed to happen tonight that didn't, and the wards around Hogwarts have less strength now that Dumbledore is leaving! _Go!_' Hermione hugged Ron quickly, and then ran up to her dorm, and shuffled about in her drawer for her Galleon from the DA.

And she sent the message-

_Help. Hogwarts needs us. We are being invaded by the Death Eaters. Our school needs us!_

The message was long and it barely fit, but Hermione simply crossed her fingers as the Felix kicked in, and the message was sent.

When she ran back into the Common Room, Neville was standing with Ginny and Ron by the fire, all of their wands at the ready, with the rest of Gryffindor looking quite confused.

All of them had their old Dumbledore's Army Galleons.

'Neville?' Hermione panted.

'Hogwarts needs us,' Neville said, standing taller than Hermione had ever seen


	12. A Good Man Goes to War

-_And so Poison Figs almost concludes (minus the Epilogue!) It's been lovely to have spent this time with you all writing Poison Figs, and it's quite sad to be concluding it. Clap clap, sob sob et cetera et cetera. So sit back, find some tissues, and revel in some Dramione._

_-Some of this chapter has remained accurate to its original __**dialogue**__ from Chapter 25 onwards, so with all due respect, all included dialogue, characters, events etc copyright J.K. Rowling._

_ was infinitely helpful when I wrote most of this fic._

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 12 - A GOOD MAN GOES TO WAR**

Demons run when a good man goes to war.

Night will fall and drown the sun

when a good man goes to war.

Friendship dies and true love lies.

Night will fall and the dark will rise

when a good man goes to war.

Demons run but count the cost;

the battle's won but the child is lost.

-Alex Kingston as River Song, Doctor Who Episode 'A Good Man Goes to War'

**Hermione**

Hermione ran forward and wrapped her arms around a bemused Neville, not caring that Ron looked set to burst out laughing any second, along with Ginny. Neville lightly disentangled himself, just as the Fat Lady started yelling outside the Common Room.

'_You're not getting in 'ere, just because you say you've been invited!'_

_'But they'll let me in, I'm supposed to come, please - _' a small, Irish voice popped up.

Hermione pulled open the Common Room door and the Fat Lady swung sideways, despite her loud protests, to reveal a very frazzled Luna, wand in hand.

'Luna! How did you know where we are?'

'Helena Ravenclaw, Hermione. She sometimes likes to talk to us Ravenclaws,' Luna pocketed her wand.

A little spark in the back of Hermione's mind reminded her that Helena was the Grey Lady, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower. Hermione gestured to Ron, Neville and Ginny, and they all filtered out of the Tower.

'Look everyone, Harry's gone, Dumbledore's taken him to find a Horcrux,' both Ginny and Neville looked confused, but to Hermione's surprise, Luna looked rather moony.

'Oh, Harry told me a while ago,' Luna blinked while Ginny looked ready to burst.

'Thats good, one less person to tell now,' Ron looked around the empty corridor, to the Fat Lady, suddenly silent.

Hermione passed the Felix Felicis around, but Ron refused his mouthful. Hermione wanted to scream at him, to ram it down his throat, but she didn't, seeing the look in his darkened eyes.

'Death eaters are going to come into Hogwarts…and Malfoy is going to let them in. We have to alert the Order, but only when we are positive that they have arrived. Until then, Ginny, Ron, Neville, I want you to station yourselves outside the Room. Luna, we'll watch Snape's office, ok?' She hugged them all quickly, and everyone set off running.

All except for Ron.

Ron stared at Hermione, his eyes burrowing deep into her soul. She wanted to turn away, but he put his right hand on her waist, and slowly slid it down until he found her fingers. He wrapped her hand in his, and hugged her tightly. Suddenly, he pushed her up against the stone wall, and she caught her breath. Ron started to lower his head down the Hermione, but when he was only a dragonfly's breath away from her, he seemed to change his mind.

Ron's hand went to his pocket, and pulling out the bottle of Felix, he forced the last, remaining mouthful down her throat.

Hermione spluttered but it was too late, the Felix had already slid down her throat, and filled her with the deep, golden warmth.

'Please… stay safe,' Ron whispered.

Hermione found three words crawling up her throat, but then she remembered the feeling of the golden boy in the Room, frightened and bound by blood and promise, and she forced them down.

'I'll be thinking of you. the whole time. Always.'

Ron nodded, and ran his thumb down her cheekbone.

'Always.'

Ron set off running in the direction of the Room, and Hermione started jogging towards Snape's office, the things left unsaid burning in her throat.

**Draco**

Draco felt his skin pricking on his wrist, and he pulled his shirt sleeve up to where Hermione's Taboo message usually popped up.

_I'm sorry,_ the message said.

Draco closed his eyes, and pulled the Hand of Glory from under his stool.

He heard some hushed voices outside the Room, and picked up the sound of Neville''s lumbering, slightly lispy voice, Ginny Weasley's whistle, and the deep tones of Weaselbee.

Suddenly, the Cabinet began to rattle, and Draco stood up, the Hand of Glory in his hand, as out lumbered the Carrows, followed by Yaxley, Thorfinn Rowle, and Gibbon.

Draco leaned back slightly as a very bushy haired, gaunt woman strode out of the Cabinet, laughing softly. She stroked Draco's hair, and gestured with one long nail to the Cabinet. Fenrir Greyback came walking out, his teeth bared, his hair oily and his eyes…

_The eyes._

Full of the screams of the innocent.

'Well _done_, Draco. Helping your Auntie Bella, the Dark Lord is _very _pleased, Draco,' Bellastrix walked around Draco, and his hair stood on end.

Fenrir threw his head back and laughed at Draco's expression, baring his yellowed teeth.

'Time to go,' Bellatrix grinned, and Draco removed his second lot of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and dropped it to the floor.

**Ginny**

The door to the Room suddenly swung open, and the corridor was filled with darkness. Ginny groped her way around the darkness next to her, and she found Neville's arm, and held on.

'Ginny!' Ron yelled, and she could hear Ron's heavy footsteps amongst the laughter of-

'Bellatrix… I think it's time we taught these kids a lesson-'

'Ginny!'

'No… the Dark Lord will not want them harmed…YAXLEY!' A curse went flying out of the darkness right at Ginny, and she just managed to dodge it.

The dark started to clear as Ron yelled.

'NOT MY SISTER!' Ron's curse just missed the running Death Eaters, and Ron ran forward to hug Ginny.

'ALERT THE ORDER!' Neville yelled from inside the Room. 'Malfoys gone… We need help!'

**Draco**

Draco ran up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, bile rising up his throat, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He burst through the door, saw Dumbledore crouched, and yelled 'Expelliarmus!'

Dumbledore's wand flew over the edge of the ramparts, and Draco's stomach lurched.

This man… This old, great man, at once so vulnerable yet still strong…

_'_Good evening, Draco.'

Dumbledore's voice was still soft, warm even, and Draco wanted to cry- what he was about to do…

Draco's eyes shifted around the Tower, hoping that he was alone… but then he noticed the second broom, and sweat fell down his forehead. 'Who else is here?'

Dumbledore was not fazed, 'A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?'

Of course he wasn't… Draco wondered why Dumbledore was acting the fool… until he realised that Potter must've gone with Dumbledore. Only Potter would be trusted so well by Dumbledore…

Draco licked his lips, 'No. I've got back up.

There are Death Eaters in your school tonight.'

Draco's words rung a sad chime around the Tower, and Draco shivered slightly.

'Well, well,' said Dumbledore, almost mockingly, 'Very good indeed! You found a way to let them in, did you?'

'Yeah, Draco said, his breaths long and ragged. 'Right under your nose and you never realised!' Draco felt as if he was enacting a pantomime, simply going through the motions, like a clock.

'Ingenious. Yet… forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported.'

'They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below. They wont be long,' Draco was struggling to get the words out, '… I came on ahead. I - I've got a job to do.'

Dumbledore's voice was ultimately forgiving as his eyes bore into Draco's soul.

'Well then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy.'

Draco stiffened, the wind and the glare of the Dark Mark cast by Gibbon making him want to fall over. it was like he was watching his life slow and stop, like he was in a bubble of the nightmare he had been running from. His fingers were gripped around his wand, but he had no strength in him, he couldn't-

'Draco, Draco, you are not a killer,' Dumbledore smiled.

'How do you know?' Draco said childishly, and he felt blood rise to his cheeks. But of course he was not a killer, otherwise his hand would stop shaking.

'You don't know what I'm capable of! You don't know what I've done!' Draco's voice had become shrill.

Dumbledore made a slight gesture of annoyance with his hand. 'Oh yes, I do. You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it…'

**Hermione**

Hermione unwillingly screamed as Greyback launched himself at her. She flung a curse at him but he deflected it with his gnarled wand. Greyback threw his head back and laughed.

'Hello, Mudblood… No need to struggle, I did your little ginger friend easily enough…'

_RON! _Hermione wanted to scream, but she forced herself to focus on the spell…

_'Accio Time turner, Accio Time turner_,' Hermione muttered under her breath.

Greyback only laughed again and flattened her to the ground, sinking his teeth into her neck.

Hermione screamed.

**Draco**

'It has been in it!' Draco insisted. 'I've been working on it all year, and tonight-'

Somewhere in the depths of the castle there was a muffled, girlish yell. Draco's body stiffened and he turned around, his blood cold. He knew it was Hermione, he was sure, and he wanted to run down to help her, to save her-

'Someone is putting up a good fight,' Dumbledore's tone was conversational, but he seemed to flinch slightly, and Draco knew that Dumbledore knew who it was.

'But you were saying… yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I though impossible… how did you do it?'

Draco wasn't really listening, instead he was paralysed, listening for Hermione, but he could not distinguish one voice from another.

'Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,' Dumbledore suggested. 'What if your back up has been thwarted by my guard?'

Draco sincerely hoped so.

'As you have perhaps realised, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help… I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself.'

Draco merely stared at Dumbledore, wondering why he was blatantly saying this when Potter was near, almost egging him out to help.

'I see,' Dumbledore said, quite kindly, while Draco stood dumbstruck. 'You are afraid to act until they join you.'

Draco suddenly felt angry; he wanted to lash out at the old man, make him tremble. 'I'm not afraid!,' he snarled. 'It's you who should be scared!' But still he could not bring himself to utter the curse.

'But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you manage to smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.'

Draco almost vomited, he had to swallow several times to keep it down. He adjusted the wand, pointing it at Dumbledore, and the words clattered out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 'I had to mend the Vanishing Cabinet that no ones used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.'

Dumbledore groaned, closing his eyes, exhausted.

'That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?'

'The others in Borgin and Burkes, and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was travelling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him… in the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realised what it meant - even Borgin didn't know - I was the one who realised there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one.'

'Very good, Dumbledore murmured. 'So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you… a clever plan, a very clever plan… and, as you say, right under my nose…'

'Yeah,' Draco tried to feel as if Dumbledore was Lucius, actually praising him, actually caring. 'Yeah, it was!'

Dumbledore was not finished yet, though. 'But there were times, weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands.. poisoning mead that there was only three slightest chance I might drink…'

'Yeah, well, you still didn't realise who was behind that stuff did you?' a bit of the old Draco sneered at the weakened Dumbledore. Draco knew immediately that Dumbledore had him figured out, why else would he have given him the cryptic message to keep going on?

'As a matter of fact, I did. I was sure it was you,' Dumbledore looked like each word was wearing him away, like sand.

'Why didn't you stop me then? Draco demanded, wishing with all his heart that Dumbledore had stopped him.

'I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders-"

Draco was baffled. Perhaps Dumbledore truly was becoming a mad coot. 'He hasn't been doing _your _orders, he promised my mother-'

'Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but-'

'He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!'

'We must agree to differ on that, Draco,' Dumbledore sighed. 'It so happens that i trust Professor Snape-'

'Well your losing your grip then!' Draco sneered. 'He's been offering me plenty of help-wanting all the glory for himself-wanting a bit of the action-"What are you doing? Did you do tehnecklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything"-But I haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Requirement, he's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and he won't be the Dark Lord's favourite any more, he'll be nothing compared to me, nothing!'

**Evelyn Hope**

Evelyn Hope was known to the members of the town of Upper Downworth as 'the mad old coot.' She walked around town, muttering that she had to hide her silly hourglass necklace from the Ministry.

Little did the people of Upper Downworth know that Ms Hope was a Squib.

She was distantly related to the Trelawneys, her mother a very talented Seer, but over the years the Evelyn had come the the realisation that she was a Squib and would always be stuck with Muggle traits.

Except for the Time Turner. Her mother, Alanna Hope, had had one of the few Time Turners realised by the Ministry, and she had never given it back, instead bequeathing it to her daughter Evleyn upon her death. Evelyn went to bed every night knowing that her mother's treasure was safe and sound in her side table drawer, away from the prying eyes of the Ministry.

Until that night.

Evelyn did not know whether to be afraid or simply to laugh, the night that her darer opened and the time turner shot out of her window, smashing it to pieces in the process.

Evelyn crossed her fingers that the Time Turner would return to her, when it was no longer needed.

**Hermione**

Hermione rolled on the ground, blood flowing out of her neck. She had slashed at Fenrir with her fingernails, ripping open his face, but still he had only leapt off her when one of the Order threw a curse at him.

She had been there for probably ten minutes when suddenly something golden swerved into her line of sight, glinting in the moonlight.

It fell into Hermione's palm, and she felt the cool gold of the Time Turner.

She knew it was the Felix that had allowed her spell to reach that far, to wherever any remaining time turners not destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. She pressed it to her lips before turning it one quarter or a turn back.

Everything seemed to be rushing backwards, past her, and she felt the blood pouring from her wound whipping into her face.

Suddenly, she had come fifteen minutes backwards, and she saw Fenrir Greyback, preparing to run at her. Without thinking, Hermione rushed forward and pushed herself a couple of feet away. Fenrir saw his prey disappear and he launched himself in the opposite direction at another member of the Order.

Hermione then ran behind a pillar, and watched herself run away. Slowly, she felt herself fading, until she was on another floor, hurling curses at one of the Carrows, and narrowly dodging them. She felt so strange, changing her future a small amount. She felt a pang in her stomach, thinking of what Greyback had said, as Alecto threw the Killing Curse at her.

_'Hello, Mudblood… No need to struggle, I did your little ginger friend easily enough…'_

'HERMI - OH-NEE!' Ron yelled as he launched himself at Alecto's back, and punched him square on the jaw. Alecto swore and scrabbled for her wand, while Hermione grabbed Ron's bleeding hand, and they both set off to find Harry.

**Draco**

There is little time, one way or another,' Dumbledore said. 'So let us discuss your options, Draco.'

'_My_ options!' Draco yelped hysterically. 'I'm standing here with a wand-I'm about to kill you-'

'My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.'

Draco felt all the blood drain from his face, the cold sweat running down the tip of his nose.

'I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll KILL MY WHOLE FAMILY!'

**Snape**

Snape forced the door to the ramparts open, his heart thudding. The Death Eaters were all gathered pathetically, as if they were watching some ridiculous Muggle television show, and he wanted to raise his wand and kill them all.

A pair of bright green eyes flashed in his mind, at once kind, framed by red hair, and in another face, they were soft, like coming home.

Greasy, lumpy Amycus Carrow licked his lips before he spoke, 'We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able-'

Snap closed his eyes, and tried to stop the tears gathering from slipping out of his eyes. He took a deep breath, and shoved pathetic Draco out of the way.

**Dumbledore**

Dumbledore's body was aching. He knew it was over, right down the hollow of his bones. To Aberforth and Ariana, oh, to Ariana, he wanted to reach out, to give them what he had never offered before. What love he had forgotten, what had he forgotten… The world around him was falling to pieces and now he could only beg Sevreus Snape, the one man he had trusted to the end…

_'_Severus,' he croaked.

He could see Severus' eyes, the anger at being charged with this task, perhaps even hate… It had been Dumbledore's infinite sorrow that he had been unable to save the Potters…only Harry.

'Severus…please…' Dumbledore could only rasp, but he saw Severus' resolve in his dark, dark eyes.

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

Dumbledore wanted to reach out to Harry, to touch that brave boy once again, to yell to him how sorry he was.

Instead, he found himself flying into the open air like Fawkes the Phoenix, meeting the beginning of the end, meeting Ariana again.

_Goodbye, Hogwarts._

_I've got another great adventure waiting for me._

**AFTERMATH AND MORT**

**Draco**

Draco was shuddering in the cold of the Malfoy Mansion when it came to him.

The voice was at the beginning, soft, kind, and forgiving.

'_Draco..'_

_'_Hermione!' Draco gasped, looking about his room, but there was no one there.

'_Draco… I'm so sorry… This was never supposed to happen… I'm so sorry…'_

Draco listened out for more, but there was none, except for the strangest feeling of warmth, as if he was being kissed, but from afar. It tasted of Hermione, of ferns and clean paper and the scent of far away flowers… Draco tried to kiss her back, and he hoped she felt it.

**Ginny**

She could see Dumbledore's body and Harry's loud sobs, Fang's howling and the discard Horcrux, gleaming in the moonlight. She reached forward and took Harry's large hand in her own, and led him into the Castle, ignoring his protest, holding back her own stinging tears.

And in the Hospital Wing they all stood and listened to the stinging, heart breaking song that was the Phoenix Lament.

**Hermione**

Dumbledore's Funeral had left Hermione empty. She had wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to use the Time Turner. But instead she had returned it to wherever it had come from, and resigned herself to watching a beautiful man be sent away.

She watched Harry's stricken face and had been ready to burst… Until Ron put her hand in his, and pulled her into his arms.

**Ron**

Ron took his usual heavy steps next to Harry and Hermione, the strange sense of silence about the lake. He watched Hermione, and he watched Harry, who looked as if a part of him had died.

'We'll be there, Harry,' Ron finally said,

'What?'

'At your aunt and uncle's house. And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going,' Ron tried to smile, and failed. He felt the sun, high in the sky, mocking the sad mood, burning his neck.

'No-' Harrys was quick to say, but Ron shook his head,

'You said to us once before, that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?' Ron looked at Hermione and thanked her silently for pointing a plain fact out to Harry-

'We're with you, whatever happens. But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow.'

'Why?'

'Billy and Fleur's Wedding, remember?' Ron said, bemused.

'Yeah, we shouldn't miss that,' Harry finally said, his eyes thoughtful.

Ron looked ahead of them, but he did not see the lake; instead he saw a long, winding road, and four words to keep them going.

_Nitwit._

_Oddment._

_Blubber._

_Tweak._


	13. Epilogue  Sands of the Reaper Man

_-Heres a little epilogue for you all, just to tie some ends up (and possibly to create some)_

**POISON FIGS**

**Chapter 13 - EPILOGUE - SANDS OF THE REAPER MAN**

There is a personality. Personalities come to an end.

Only forces endure. It said this with a certain satisfaction. One said, Besides . .. there have been irregularities.

Where you get personality, you get irregularities.

Wellknown fact.

-_Terry Prachett, _Reaper Man

**Hermione**

Hermione rolled over, her back sore from the feeling of the twigs puncturing her sleeping bag. Her vision was foggy, as always when she woke from her mottled dreams. The grass smelt cool and fresh, and she stared at a tiny green blade, hypnotised by its perfection, the turn of the small amount of sunlight filtering through the hole in the tent.

Hermione looked up at the bed, and saw his hand dangling off the edge of the bed. She wanted to reach out and touch the perfect, curling fingers, callused and tanned from the constant moving around. His hair was tousled and his eyelids were flickering slightly, his long lashes soft and a deep brown, ignoring the laws of hair colour.

There was a half smile on his lips, and Hermione put her finger to her neck, feeling the slight indent where Fenrir had bitten her. Although she had used the time turner, the scar of her travelling self had remained, barely noticeable. Whenever she touched it, he would lean over and kiss it, as if he was taking it away.

Hermione sat up slowly, trying not to wake him, and pulled her jacket and jeans on, discarding her old pants and jumper. She gathered her frizzed hair up into a hair elastic, and looked in Harry's small shard of mirror. Thankfully it was only her face that showed up, and not the blue eye Harry had warned her about. She looked like a complete mess, but better than the night before. Hermione put the mirror back into its wrapping of cloth and stepped outside of the tent, and noticed immediately the smell of the dew in the air, fresh and wonderful. Hermione breathed it in, and she couldn't help it - she started to spin, staring up at the sunlight filtering through the trees, watching the way it changed, like liquid gold.

Hermione was so lost in the perfection of that moment that she didn't notice the tent flap opening behind her, nor the boy walking out.

He took advantage of the moment and watched her, leaning against one of the tent poles, before walking forward and planting a kiss on her shoulder.

Hermione felt it like it was a whisper, a small flutter of air against her skin. For someone who was usually so _harsh,_ he had been been unusually gentle that day.

She turned to him and he smiled.

'Have you ever heard the song of the Sands of the Reaper Man?' he asked.

Hermione shook her head, and assumed it was a wizarding song.

'I can't sing, but its something everyone should hear before they die,' he held her close.

Hermione only nodded, her eyes transfixed by the sun above, and the sound of the woods around her.

He pressed his lips to her ear, and began to macabre hymn-

'_Do you know the whisper of the reaper man?_

_When he comes for you in the night?_

_Sometimes he welcomes with his finger,_

_Sometimes he comes with his scythe._

_He has with him the sands of time_

_They sink down down for him._

_And when he taps the glass again,_

_It takes away whats mine._

_Reaper, reaper, reaper man,_

_Why did you take her away?_

_She was so innocent;_

_He was so kind_

_Please bring her to me._

_Reaper, reaper, reaper man,_

_will you come and find me?_

_I'll be waiting_

_Underneath_

_the branches of the hanging tree._

_Reaper man, please don't leave me alone;_

_I'll be there for the sands of time,_

_Waiting for you to call_

_And bring me_

_Whats_

_Mine.'_

Hermione was horrified; the song was much unlike anything he had ever said before, or told her he had known, and Hermione shivered in his suddenly cold arms.

'How do you know that?'

He only smiled, little flecks of gold flickering in the sunlight.

_'_Its a little something mum's been telling me for a long time.'

Hermione suddenly realised that everything had become very silent, and even the sounds of the trees had become subdued.

'Oh, _please_,' she said, trying to pull out of his arms, but the muscles and the veins were sticking out, pulling her close.

'Yes?' He suddenly slammed her to the ground, and Hermione felt his heavy weight, the heavy beat of his heart against her chest.

_'_Ron? _Draco_? Please, let me go!'

'To where? Where are you going to run, Hermione? Into the arms of the Reaper Man?'

Hermione tried to hold back the tears as he pressed his lips to hers, and she was enfolded in light and darkness, in fire and ice.

Apparation usually made her want to vomit, and she always felt like she was being sucked into a void, but this was something different, unwilling Apparition. It made Hermione feel as if her stomach was being sucked out, but it was very slow, as if Ron - although in his eyes he was Draco - was dragging her behind him in the dirt of the Apparition channels. The journey would sometimes stop for a split second, and Hermione would see different bits of the countryside.

At some point they stopped in London, and a car almost hit them, but then Hermione was sucked back, pulled by Draco/Ron at a ridiculous speed.

Finally, they stopped at their final destination, and Hermione landed onto a cold, slightly wet stone floor. She felt a terrible pain in her arm that she landed on, and she felt a fracture.

Draco/Ron stood up and dusted himself off, his hair turning from golden-red to silvery-white. He also grew shorter, his features turning from round cheeks and wide eyes to high, angular cheekbones and sly eyes. Draco rubbed his nose, which had been quite long only a minute ago, and looked down at Hermione in a pitying manner.

'_Draco? What have you done with Ron?' _Hermione scrambled to her feet, her eyes taking in all the stone and wood, as well as the stairs leading up.

'Weaselbee? I think you'll find him down….below.'

Hermione turned around and saw the trapdoor behind her, badly hidden by a small, scrappy carpet. When she listened carefully, she could hear a bit of yelling, although it was rough and barely comprehensible.

'Let him go!' Hermione yelled, her wand raised, but Draco flicked his own wand, and Hermione was disarmed in a second. She started to run, but Draco simply grabbed onto he wrist, and he was strong, so strong.

Hermione used the only weapon Fenrir Greyback's bite had given her, and sunk her strong, slightly pointed teeth into Draco's arm. He threw her off him with a jolt and a scream of pain, and Hermione spat his blood out of her mouth, her eyes misty.

Hermione grabbed her wand which had fallen at the bottom of the stairs, and Dissaparated.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, and looked around. She looked at the small slab of grey stone, and with a start realised she had landed on top of someone's tomb.

'Ignotius Peverell,' Hermione read, tracing her fingertips over the aged letters.

She felt like Eve; she had taken the fig, but had not seen it's poison amongst the sweet.


End file.
